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“THROUGH THE CLEAR BLUE CRYSTAL WE SAW 

A YOUNG MAN.” 


THE FIGURE 
(See p. 346. 


OF 


YOUNG BECK 


A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK 


By 

McDonnell bodkin 


a 

Author of “The Quests of Paul Beck,” “The 
Capture of Paul Beck,” etc. 


WITH FRONTISPIECE BY 
ERNEST PRATER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1912 




Copyright, 1912, 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 
All rights reserved 


Published, February, 1912 


Elects ot y p ed and Printed by 
THE COLONIAL PRESS 
C. II. Simonds 6* Co., Boston, U. S- A, 


©CI.A305620 

P 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

The Bertram Twins . 




PAGE 

I 

II. 

The Grand Slam 




19 

III. 

A Derby Favourite 




36 

IV. 

A Close Shave .... 




52 

V. 

Flight ...... 




63 

VI. 

Capture 




78 

VII. 

A Panic in Parliament . 




93 

VIII. 

The Understudy .... 




107 

IX. 

Fairy Lilian .... 




1 19 

X. 

“Two Are Company” 




129 

XI. 

Gertrude’s Queer Lover 




149 

XII. 

The Locked Door 




165 

XIII. 

The Blue Diamond 




180 

>XIV. 

Hide and Seek .... 




193 

XV. 

The Finger Marks on the Cuf 




209 

XVI. 

The Alibi 




224 

XVII. 

Death’s Threshold 




236 

XVIII. 

Nurse Elinor .... 




248 

XIX. 

An Epidemic of Murder 




265 

XX. 

In the Grip of the Hypnotist 




279 

XXI. 

Held Up 




293 

XXII. 

“ Flat Burglary ” ... 




306 

XXIII. 

Margery Says “ No ” . 




319 

XXIV. 

The “ Glacier ” 




333 



YOUNG BECK 


CHAPTER I 

THE BERTRAM TWINS 

The Bertram twins were already famous when 
young Beck and I came up to Cambridge, though 
they were only a term in front of us. Even for 
twins their resemblance to each other was extraor- 
dinary. Their most intimate friends, tutor, profes- 
sor, nor proctor could tell one from the other. 
The result was they played all tricks with impunity. 
If one of them missed a lecture the professor could 
not tell which ; if one of them was caught in a 
frolic the proctor was puzzled, and by a strange 
coincidence it was always the wrong twin who was 
accused, at least so he swore. 

They were good-looking chaps enough, smart, 
black-haired and black-eyed, rather low-sized, but 
square-shouldered and as agile as monkeys. It 
was a revelation to see them run and pass to each 
other at hockey, and at lawn tennis they made 
a combination that carried all before it. They 
seemed to have no separate identity; which was 
Eddie and which was Freddie Bertram only them- 
selves could tell and they kept the secret. 


2 


YOUNG BECK 


Their doings and sayings were the talk of the 
college, but somehow, no one could say why, easy- 
mannered as they were and full of life and fun, the 
Bertram twins were not generally popular. 

The twins were at St. John’s College and Beck 
and I at Cam’s, and so it happened that we were 
at Cambridge about a fortnight before we ran 
across them. We make a very useful double at 
tennis, and one of the twins, Eddie or Freddie, I 
don’t know which, seeing us play at the top of our 
form and win our match, challenged us for a fiver 
a corner. We took them on and were beaten, three 
sets to two, every game and every set closely 
fought. I believe either of us could have beaten 
either of them singly but they were irresistible 
together. 

The match caused a great sensation. It was 
agreed that Beck and I were to practise together 
and play them for double stakes in a fortnight’s 
time. But Beck wouldn’t play. At first he was 
keen enough, but after the first week I could not 
get him to practise, and at the end of the second 
he backed out. I could see the twins were riled. 
When I suggested that we should coax Beck to 
change his mind they curtly refused. 

I saw little or nothing of them after that, and my 
next falling in with them was a bit exciting. 

I acquired the habit of going out before break- 
fast on the Cam with a Rob Roy canoe, which I 
prefer to a row boat because it lets you see the way 
you’re going. I am not a chap to rave about sce- 
nery but I love a river with its lights and shades and 
bright pictures of tree and sky in the water. To 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


3 

my thinking it is the most lovely thing that God 
ever made. 

One morning when I was about two miles out of 
town coming round a bend of the river I saw a light 
two-oared outrigger in front of me, and a moment 
later I recognised the Bertram twins at the oars. 

Whatever else they did well they certainly rowed 
atrociously. Each pulled away on his own account 
without the least regard for the other, and the boat 
went up the stream in short jerky darts from side 
to side like a startled trout. 

I was a bit surprised that they had never learned 
to pull together, but they gave me little time to 
think about it. The twin at the stroke oar caught 
a crab and pitched over on his back; at the same 
moment the twin at the bow pulled a short jerky 
little stroke which heaved the crazy little boat quite 
over, and the two white figures went splash into the 
water and vanished. 

It was as sudden and as comical as a scene in a 
pantomime, and I burst out laughing. I never 
doubted they both could swim. A moment after- 
wards one of the figures came up spluttering and 
panting and gripped the side of the up-turned boat, 
while the other was carried struggling down the 
stream. Half-way down between the boat and the 
canoe an arm and a head showed for a second over 
the surface and had just time for one wild cry for 
help before he went under again. 

That cry took the laugh out of me, I can tell you, 
for I knew that the man was drowning. The body 
swirled close to the canoe and plunging my arm in 
up to the shoulder I gripped the white flannel of 


4 


YOUNG BECK 


his shirt. Of course the canoe went over at once, 
and we were in the water. But I could swim like 
an otter, and I knew I had nothing to fear but the 
ducking. 

The twin I had hold of, whichever he was, be- 
haved splendidly. “No danger,” I spluttered as I 
drew his head clear of the water and turned over 
on my back. “ Keep quiet.” 

“ Righto,” he answered, and lay as still as a log 
in my hands and as easy to manage. I ran him 
down current to the bank, keeping in front of the 
two boats. 

“ Jump about and get warm,” I said, “ while I 
go back for your brother.” 

This time I brought the row boat with the twin 
clinging to it to the bank. When I had righted 
the boat and got hold of the canoe I found the 
twins as lively as crickets, and quite ready to row 
back. But I wouldn’t have it, I didn’t want a 
second job. 

“ If you are not too cold and promise to sit still,” 
I said, “ I’ll take you back, we can tow the canoe. 
You should pick up some faint notion how to row 
or swim before you trust yourselves again in an 
outrigger.” 

“ All right, I’m as warm as a toast,” cried both 
together, in so exactly the same voice that it 
startled me. 

They were full of life and fun while I rowed 
back, and made light of the danger and the duck- 
ing. 

“ All the same, old man,” said one of them as 
they went ashore, “ we won’t forget that there 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


5 

would have been a brace of corpses in the river 
this morning if you had not turned up in the nick 
of time.” 

“ The coroner would have had some trouble 
about the identification,” laughed the other. 

But if they took the matter lightly with me they 
didn’t with others. I soon found that the pair of 
them were chattering all over the place of my 
“ gallant rescue.” It was tiresome to be made into 
a little tin god, and to have the fellows congratu- 
lating me about nothing. But I could not be angry 
with the twins, who I knew meant well and who 
behaved very decently when I spoke to them about 
it. 

Day by day the more I saw of fhem, the more 
I liked them. I may say without boasting I was in 
with a very decent set at college, and all the fellows 
I knew got to like the twins as well as I did — all 
except my own particular friend, Beck. 

I tackled him about it at breakfast one morning, 
at least I was at breakfast, he had breakfasted some 
hours before. I suppose I was in none the best 
humour for having lost fifty-seven pounds at bridge 
the night before. 

“ Have you anything against the Bertrams, 
Beck ? ” I asked a bit tartly, “ I think I am entitled 
to ask.” 

“ I think you are ; I have.” 

“ Why didn’t you tell me that before? ” 

“ Why didn’t you ask me ? I am quite ready to 
tell you now. One of them is a low down scamp.” 

“ Which of them ? ” I asked, without thinking. 

Beck broke out laughing and in a moment I 


6 


YOUNG BECK 


joined in. He has the most irresistible laugh of 
any man I know, he never laughs alone. 

“ Ask me another,” he said, “ and an easier one 
please. I wish I knew myself, I’d punch his head 
for him if I did.” 

“ Is it as bad as that ? ” 

“ Worse. I would not talk of it to any one but 
you. Do you know little Miss Bloom ? ” 

“The little tobacconist girl? Only just to look 
at and nod to. Pretty little woman.” 

“ Miss Bloom is a lady,” interposed Beck a bit 
stiffly. “ You don’t seem to know that. Her 
father was a rector with a good income and very 
popular. He died suddenly leaving his widow and 
only daughter a little less than nothing to live on. 
Lucy, I mean Miss Bloom, was a Girton girl at 
the time, and one of the brightest of them. But 
when her father died, by the help of some friends, 
she acquired the tobacco shop at the corner, and has 
made a home for her mother and herself.” 

“ You seem to know all about it, old chap,” I said. 

At this Beck blushed, actually blushed! Beck! 

“ Every one knows all about it except yourself, 
thickhead,” he answered sharply. “ All the chaps 
buy their cigars and tobacco from her. They get 
the best of good value too, but that’s not the ques- 
tion. They all treat her like the little lady that she 
is, all except your delightful Bertrams.” 

“ One of them,” I corrected. 

“ Yes, one of them. Confound him and them ! ” 

“ Well, what did he or they do? ” 

“ He was rude to Lucy Bloom, like the unmiti- 
gated cad that he is.” 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


7 


“ Which is?” 

“ Don’t jest, Kirwood, I am in no humour for 
jesting. I confess my blood boils when I think of 
it. The poor little girl was walking by the river 
after having a hard day in the shop when this cub 
followed her, forced himself on her and tried to 
kiss her.” 

I confess I was not impressed, and I could not 
share Beck’s indignation. 

“ Well,” I said, “ where was the great crime in 
all that? We all like to snatch a kiss from a pretty 
girl once in a way.” 

At that Beck boiled over. I do believe our 
friendship was never so near snapping as at that 
moment. Without answering he turned his back 
on me and walked to the door. 

“ I beg your pardon, Beck,” I called after him. 
“ I did not mean to vex you.” 

He paused with his hand on the door knob, 
turned and came back. 

“ How would you like if this cub tried to kiss 
your sister against her will ? ” he asked abruptly. 
“ I tell you what, Kirwood, your sister is not one 
bit a better girl than Lucy Bloom.” 

“ But ” I began. I did not like his drag- 

ging in my sister. 

“ Oh, I know you are going to repeat that we all 
kissed girls in our day. That is all right where the 
girls don’t mind. But only a cad would try to kiss 
a girl against her will, an unmitigated cad when the 
girl was Lucy Bloom.” 

He hadn’t convinced me a bit by this nice dis- 
tinction, perhaps it was because I did not know 


8 


YOUNG BECK 


Lucy Bloom at the time. But Beck seemed so hot 
on the business that I thought it best not to argue 
it out. 

“ How did you hear all about it? ” I asked. 

“ She told me herself. You need not look like 
that, she does not care two straws for me, and I’m 
not the least in love with her either; I admire and 
respect her immensely, that’s all. Well, one eve- 
ning about a week ago I caught her crying her 
eyes out, alone in the shop, and it all came out. 
She didn’t wish to hurt her mother by telling her, 
especially as the mother always wanted her to give 
up the place. After the Bertram cub had insulted 
her she ordered him never to put his foot inside 
her shop again. But they both came there regu- 
larly, especially when she was alone, and leaned their 
elbows on the counter and looked at her and talked 
to her whether she liked it or not. The trouble of it 
is that she cannot in the least tell which she wants 
to get rid of. * Cheer up,’ I said, 4 I’ll soon find 
out.’ But I didn’t find out. I spoke to one of them 
and he said he was not the man, then I spoke to 
the other ” 

44 To the other? Do you know one from the 
other? ” 

44 Rather ! but that didn’t help me. Each laughed 
and said it was his brother, there was no getting 
behind that. Miss Bloom could not help me in the 
least, and I could not thrash either of them on the 
chance it was not the right one.” 

44 Did you feel like that? ” 

44 You don’t know the girl, Kirwood, or you 
wouldn’t ask. The gentlest little soul in the world. 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


9 

I tell you my fingers itched to lick the chap, which- 
ever it was, that insulted her. One good has come 
of it, however, they both keep out of the place since 
I spoke to them.” 

“ You might forgive and forget and come to a 
wine I am giving to-night.” 

“ I’d rather not, old chap, if you don’t mind.” 

I did mind but I did not say so. If the truth 
must be told I thought Beck a little quixotic to fall 
out with a chap so bitterly because he kissed, or 
tried to kiss, a pretty girl. If I did not know his 
Miss Bloom he did not know the twins. I did, and 
I liked them better and better every time I met 
them. 

I am afraid I have a spice of the gambler in me, 
it runs in the blood. My father never backed a 
horse or touched a card in his life, but my grand- 
father had gambled away all the unentailed estate, 
a good third of the whole. I fancy I caught the 
intermittent fever from him. The hereditary cra- 
ving had jumped my father and lit on me. 

I found the Bertrams on for anything and every- 
thing in the way of a game, from pitch-and-toss 
to manslaughter. They were delightful losers and 
winners. Though they preferred small stakes they 
did not shirk big ones, and were always ready for 
a “ double or quits,” no matter what the amount. 

Their courage was its own reward. Bridge was 
the game we played, and as a rule they played 
together. As partners they were invincible. It 
was not so much good cards or even good play that 
did it. They were good players, no doubt, brilliant 
if a little erratic, but I can say without vanity that 


IO 


YOUNG BECK 


I played as well as either of them, and Tom Staun- 
ton, who was generally my partner, was by long 
odds the best player of the lot. Yet over and over 
again the twins pulled off the rubber against our 
strong cards. Their hands seemed to fit in won- 
derfully, and their leads and finesses almost always 
came off. 

Their play, too, was transparently fair, in fact 
careless, and they won more often on their oppo- 
nents’ deal than on their own. They were the most 
rapid players I ever met, and never hesitated for 
a moment on a declaration or a double. When 
one of the twins said, “ With you,” or “ I leave it 
to you, partner,” or asked, “May I?” or “Part- 
ner, may I play ? ” the answer was prompt as an 
echo. 

Every day I thought luck would turn, but it kept 
straight on on the wrong road until I owed the 
twins a bit more than I cared to think about. They 
were very decent about it, I must say that for them, 
always ready to take my paper and never so much 
as hinting about payment. 

Then something happened that put my troubles 
out of my head for the time being. Beck told me 
one morning that his people were coming down to 
Cambridge for a week, and I made up my mind 
that I would have my governor and Gerty down at 
the same time. 

Gertrude is my only sister, and though she is 
more than three years younger than I am she bosses 
me more than a bit, but it is fair to say she won’t 
let any one else boss me. 

I used to write to her from school about Beck, 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


ii 


and talk to her of him when I was at home, but I 
never could get her interested in him in the least. 
I fancy she didn’t care to have me playing second 
fiddle to another chap, and the more I praised him 
the less she seemed to like him. 

“ Your beloved Beck seems a cute little chap,” 
she said, “ from what you tell me about him, but 
not in the least the sort I would care about. I like 
them big and strong and dark, and I have no use 
for pretty pink and white little men like your 
friend.” 

“ Wait till you meet him,” I said. 

“ I am quite willing to wait for ever,” she an- 
swered, laughing. 

Of course Gerty had heard of Paul Beck, the 
famous detective, but she did not like old Beck any 
more than his son. 

“ Too meek and mock modest for my taste,” she 
said, “ and he tires me to death with all that talk 
about his luck, when I’m sure all the time he is 
patting himself on the back for being so clever.” 

But Mrs. Beck, the erstwhile Dora Myrle, she 
liked and wanted to meet, and that was my chance 
to get her down to Cambridge while young Beck’s 
people were there. It was luckily an off time with 
the governor, and I knew Gerty could be depended 
on to carry him with her wherever she wanted 
to go. 

We had an awfully jolly time of it at Cambridge, 
at least I thought so whatever the others thought. 
Old Beck and his wife turned up first, and it was a 
delight to the son to see how they all made much 
of his mother. The Dons remembered her as a 


12 


YOUNG BECK 


brilliant student, some of them had taught her, and 
the younger generation were tickled with the sto- 
ries of her detective triumphs. 

I myself found it hard to believe that that quiet, 
matronly little woman had been through so many 
startling escapades. 

The next morning my people arrived. We 
tossed up, Beck and I, to see who should have the 
lot to lunch, and he won. I never saw a chap in 
such a fidget as he was about the wines and the 
dishes and the flowers for the table. I fancy he 
was a bit frightened at what I told him about 
Gerty. He kept on interfering with the gyp, 
putting everything astray and running his hand 
through his hair till it all stood on end, when luck- 
ily his mother turned up half an hour before the 
time and took things into her own hands. 

The governor and Gerty were about five minutes 
late, and Beck had made up his mind they wouldn’t 
come just the moment before they arrived. 

Gerty is a tall girl, and rather fancies herself on 
that score. I thought she was taller than Beck, but 
when they went in to lunch together I found it was 
the other way round, and Beck had two inches to 
the good. 

She gave him a very stately little bow when they 
were introduced. 

“ I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Beck,” she 
said. “ I have heard a great deal about you from 
my brother.” 

You know the sort of civil commonplace talk 
that takes all the life out of a person. No one is 
better at that sort of thing than Gerty when she 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


13 

chooses, though she can be lively enough, as a rule. 
I made up my mind I would give her a wigging 
over it that evening. 

The governor, too, was inclined to be a bit stiff 
at the start. That’s the governor’s way. He 
thinks a deal too much about our family and posi- 
tion. 

“ My dear boy,” he said to me that morning, “ I 
don’t like the notion of introducing your sister to 
this class of people. It’s all right for you, of course, 
a man can meet every one. I wouldn’t have you a 
snob for the world, and from what you tell me 
the young fellow seems quite presentable. Still, 
especially in these Radical days we must draw the 
line somewhere.” 

But he thawed almost at once when bright-eyed 
little Mrs. Beck took him in charge. She was a 
mighty clever little woman, and could tell a good 
story like a man in a few crisp sentences. But it 
was as a listener she won the governor’s heart, he 
found it delightful to have such a nice-looking, 
clever woman So interested in all he had got to 
say. 

Old Paul, who was sitting near her on the other 
side from his son, made quite a conquest of Gerty. 
The old chap had a wonderfully taking manner 
with him. It was fine to see the way he let Gerty 
draw him out and to watch her excitement and 
delight at his stories. 

As the hurdler on the ditch I suppose I saw most 
of the game, and I quite pitied poor young Beck at 
the top of the table. It was quite plain he was 
taken with Gertrude at first sight — most men are. 


14 


YOUNG BECK 


I don’t know why but chaps have told me that her 
eyes fetched them, and I knew for myself how she 
can warm you out of a bad humour with a smile. 

She wasn’t rude to young Beck, though she 
could be real rude when she liked. She talked to 
him between whiles civilly enough, in fact too civ- 
illy, but she let herself go with his father whom she 
was never tired of abusing. 

“ I’m in love with old Paul,” she said to me that 
night as I sat on the foot of her bed in her room at 
the hotel. “ I take back everything I said about him. 
Let his wife look out for herself. I withdraw all 
I said about him. It is impossible to believe that 
that easy-going man has gone through such per- 
formances; and the way he tells about them is 
neither bragging nor the other thing.” 

“ Mock modest? ” I suggested. 

“ Not a bit of it. Don’t I tell you I confess and 
repent. Such a queer old lady-killer as he is. I’m 
not surprised that all the girls he met were half in 
love with him.” 

“ What will his wife say to all that? ” 

“ Nothing. She is a nice, sensible, clever woman, 
and almost good enough for dear old Paul. Dad is 
in love with her.” 

“And young Beck?” I asked, whereupon Gerty 
made a face at me. 

“ Just what I expected, a nice well-behaved 
nothing. Oh, I wonder, Charlie, what you can see 
in him ! I could understand your being in love with 
him if he were a girl, he ought to have been a girl 
with his pretty face and lady-like manners.” 

“ He’s as good a chap as there’s going.” 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


i5 


“ I have no doubt he is very good, goody-good 
if you prefer that. I love a man with a little spice 
of the devil in him like his old dad.” 

“ Young Beck has devil enough in him when 
he’s roused,” I replied. 

“ I fancy it would take an earthquake to rouse 
him,” said Gerty. 

“ I’ve seen a little girl do it,” I blurted out uncon- 
sciously, and in five minutes she had dragged out 
of me the whole story of Miss Bloom and the Ber- 
tram twins. 

“ I’ll introduce you to the twins to-morrow,” I 
said. “ They are the rage just at present.” 

“ And the girl, Miss what you call her, Miss 
Blood, is she pretty? ” 

“ Bloom, Miss Bloom, she is a nice little thing 
enough, too quiet for my taste; but you can have 
a peep at her yourself to-morrow if you want 
to.” 

“ Not I,” said Gerty scornfully, “ why should I ? 
Good night, Charlie, we should have both been in 
bed hours ago.” 

Next morning Gerty remembered she wanted to 
buy a cigar case as a birthday present for the gov- 
ernor, whose birthday was only a fortnight off. 
“ I may as well buy it,” she said, “ from your 
friend’s friend, the Bloom girl.” 

Inside and outside the counter the two girls were 
as great a contrast as you would see in a day’s 
walk. I could never rave about Gertrude the way 
I’ve heard some chaps do, though she is my sister 
and as good a girl as steps. But there is no deny- 
ing she has a fine figure, her head is well set on 


i6 


YOUNG BECK 


her shoulders and she carries herself as straight as 
an arrow with an easy swing in her stride. She 
has eyes like old brown sherry, the same kind of 
light in them, and the way her copper-coloured 
hair breaks out into little curls on her forehead and 
the nape of her neck, whether she does it on pur- 
pose or not, is wonderfully fetching. She is as 
clever as they make them, and I don’t know any 
one who can be nicer than Gerty when she gives 
her mind to it, but she is a vixen when she is vexed 
as I have once or twice found to my cost. She 
completely overshadowed poor Miss Bloom, who 
looked a little mouse of a girl in comparison, pretty 
enough in an insignificant kind of way if you 
look closely at her. 

I thought Gerty was in a bit of a temper when 
we entered the shop, but you would have never 
guessed it inside. She was as nice as pie to the 
little Bloom, just the right sort of niceness without 
a touch of condescension in it, and they chatted in 
the friendliest way together while they chose a sil- 
ver cigar case for the governor. 

“ Pretty little person,” said Gerty as we came 
out together into the sunshine, the cigar case in 
a neat parcel in her hand. “ Just the kind to suit 
your friend. I should think she wouldn’t say boo 
to a goose.” 

“ Meaning thereby? ” 

“ Whatever you like.” 

“ You are all wrong about Beck, Gerty,” I said, 
pretty hotly. “ He is not the least the kind of chap 
you are hinting at. He is as clever as can be, and 
there’s no chap I’d sooner have beside me in a real 


THE BERTRAM TWINS 


17 

row. As for Miss Bloom, I don’t suppose he cares 
twopence for her or any other girl.” 

“ Why does he want to fight the Bertram twins 
on her account? ” 

“ That’s Beck all over. He’d do as much for you 
or any other girl if he thought she was put upon.” 

“ Thanks, I’m never likely to need his services,” 
said Gerty sharply, which only proved how little 
she knew. 

For sheer opposition’s sake, I do believe, she was 
immensely taken with the Bertram twins when I 
introduced them. They got talking to her of how 
I saved their lives, and all that sort of thing until 
I was sick of it. But I could see that Gerty was 
pleased and took pains to be specially nice to them 
when Beck was at hand. 

“ I would be in love with one of them,” she said, 
“ if only I could tell which.” 

Mrs. Beck and herself got to be great friends 
before the week was over, and I never saw Gerty 
so meek before as with that quiet little woman. 
But somehow she and young Beck never seemed to 
hit it off. 

After the first day he quite lost his shyness and 
was as cool as the lady herself. They never had 
a row or anything of the kind, but through the 
whole fortnight, from first to last, they never got 
any nearer than when they first met. 

It was a bit of a disappointment to me. I was 
young and foolish in those days, and I had a kind 
of notion those two might take a fancy to each 
other. 

The governor was awfully riled when I uncon- 


i8 


YOUNG BECK 


sciously hinted it to him one evening when we 
were alone in my rooms. 

“ I’m more liberal minded than most people in 
such matters,” he broke out, jumping from his chair 
and walking up and down the room, “ but I confess 
that I am surprised at you, Charlie, surprised and 
shocked that you could entertain such a notion for 
one moment. After all there are some distinctions 
that must be observed.” 

“ You need not get so riled, sir,” I said. “ There 
is not the slightest fear of it.” But it took him a 
good twenty minutes to cool down. 

I am afraid he made young Beck feel those dis- 
tinctions too plainly when they met next morning, 
and I cursed myself for a blundering blockhead. 

But even the governor must have been quite 
satisfied in the long run. Gerty kissed Mrs. Beck 
good-bye, and she nearly kissed old Paul, who from 
the look of him would have liked it, but to young 
Beck she was as cold as ice cream. 

“ Good-bye, Mr. Beck,” she said, “ and thanks 
for a very pleasant time.” 

“ Good-bye, Miss Kirwood,” he answered, in 
exactly the same tone, “ I am glad you enjoyed 
yourself.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE GRAND SLAM 

For a day or two after the governor and Gerty 
went home I did not see much of Beck. He had 
a good chance of being picked for bow on the 
college boat, and he was training hard, so I was 
thrown in more and more with the twins. We still 
played cards, of course, and luck still ran against 
me. Whenever the twins played together they 
almost invariably won, and my losses began to 
count up to a figure that worried me a bit. 

That was one of the reasons I wanted Beck to 
make up with them. He was a demon at bridge, 
and I was anxious to show the twins what we two 
could do together. But I did not care to mention 
the twins for I was not sure how he would take it. 

One day he suddenly broached the subject him- 
self. I believe he had got me to his room, on pre- 
tence of a drink, really to talk about them. 

“ Your twins are a fraud, Kirwood,” he said 
abruptly, after he had propitiated me with a long 
glass of iced cider cup. 

“ I never knew such a prejudiced chap as you 
are when you take a notion into your head.” 

“ I’ll give you my reasons,” he said shortly, “ for 
the faith that is in me, and you shall judge for 


20 YOUNG BECK 

yourself. You told me the Bertrams could not 
row or swim ? ” 

“ I never saw two more complete duffers in a 
boat — or in the water.” 

“ Sure it wasn’t sham ? ” 

“ My dear boy, I don’t know what maggot has 
got into your head. People don’t risk their lives 
for the fun of the thing. There were never two 
chaps nearer drowning who didn’t go the whole 
way.” 

“ All right. Now I’ll tell you my story. Two 
days ago, as I was lazing down the river bank a 
couple of miles outside the town, I saw the Ber- 
trams go by in a two-oared outrigger. They knew 
how to row then, and no mistake about it; I never 
saw two fellows pull cleaner together. I promise 
you they made the boat go.” 

“ They may have learned to row since.” 

“All right; again they are apt scholars if they 
did, that’s all. But, easy a while, I’ve more to tell. 
They went round the bend in a flash; I ducked as 
they went by, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t see 
me. I was more than a bit puzzled, as you may 
imagine, remembering what you told me. As you 
know, I have detective blood in my veins. The 
result is an intolerable curiosity. I can’t bear to be 
puzzled about anything without trying to find out. 
Quick as I could I got back to the boat-slip and 
stole up the river after them in a canoe, keeping 
close to the bank and reconnoitring at every bend. 
I had my reward. As I came to the sudden bend 
— you know the place — the river deepens just 
beyond it — I heard shouts and laughing, and the 


THE GRAND SLAM 


21 


splash of a frolic in the water. I ran the canoe’s 
nose into the bank and crept round the bend under 
the trees. There, right in front of me, not fifty 
yards off, were the Bertram twins, whom you saved 
from drowning three weeks ago, swimming and 
diving like ducks.” 

“ They may have learned how to swim since ; 
I’m sure they did not know it then.” 

“ Don’t be a fool, Charlie. You don’t learn to 
swim in three weeks, not as they swam. It was a 
trick they played on you, I feel it in my bones. 
They wanted to be in with you and your set. Per- 
haps they thought it might lead to a little profitable 
card-playing.” 

He looked at me pretty sharply as he said this, 
but I gave no sign. I knew it would confirm his 
prejudice if I even hinted about card-playing. 

“ An idle brace of plausible scoundrels, that’s 
what they are,” he went on. “ They loaf about all 
day and gamble all night. They shirk their lec- 
tures, by all accounts they do no private reading 
and ” 

There I cut him short. 

“ You are wrong there, anyhow,” I broke in, 
“ as I happen to know.” 

“ What do you know ? ” 

“ That they work. Perhaps they don’t want the 
name of study; it’s foolish, I grant you, but lots of 
clever fellows are like that. They study, all the 
same. How do I know ? I see the question in your 
eyes. Wait a bit, and I’ll tell you how I know. 
A few days ago I went up to their rooms when I 
wasn’t expected, and through the door I could hear 


22 


YOUNG BECK 


the pair of them hard at work inside. I could not 
hear the words, but I could swear it was question 
and answer repeated over again and again. One 
of them was grinding the other. They were so 
engaged that they did not hear when I knocked, so 
I turned the handle of the door and walked straight 
in and caught them in the act. One of them had 
a notebook in his hand, and he was questioning the 
other out of it. You never in your life saw two 
fellows more flabbergasted than they were when I 
suddenly appeared. At first I thought they were 
going to be nasty about it. 4 What the devil do 
you mean ? ’ the twin with the notebook broke out 
when the other kicked him on the shins and brought 
him up standing. 

“ 4 Easy does it, Fred/ he said, winking at me. 
“ 4 Kirwood won’t give away our little secret ; not 
that it matters much if he does.’ 

44 4 Beg pardon, Kirwood,’ interrupted the other 
as he locked the notebook away in his desk, 4 you 
startled me when you came in so suddenly just now. 
Ed and I are a brace of fools. W e have our doubts 
if we will get through our 44 little go,” and we 
don’t want the fellows to say we swatted if we fail, 
see? I hope you haven’t come to tempt us from the 
straight path of duty. You don’t say you want 
cards at this hour of the day, you gluttonous 
gambler ! ’ ” 

I did not intend to mention cards, it just slipped 
out. Beck caught me up at once. 

44 Cards ? Did you say cards ? Then I was 
right.” 

44 No, you were wrong,” I retorted. 44 1 didn’t 


THE GRAND SLAM 


23 

want them to play cards, I wanted them to arrange 
about a little party this evening at their place, I 
had forgotten the hour.” 

“ But this evening means cards ? ” 

“Well, I don’t say it doesn’t. We may have a 
modest little flutter after supper, I fancy.” 

Beck came close up to me and put a hand on my 
arm, the way one fellow holds another from dan- 
ger. 

“ Charlie,” he said, “ you and I have been good 
pals for a long time : will you do something to 
please me ? ” 

“ Anything in my power, old man.” 

“ Throw over the Bertram twins. I am a bad 
hand at preaching but you told me yourself that 
card-playing to you is what drink is to another 
man. If you begin you cannot stop, if you get in 
you cannot get out. Don’t get in, don’t let those 
chaps coax you in.” 

I was stirred by his earnestness ; I felt bound to 
tell him everything after that, though I did not like 
to do it, not one little bit. 

“I’m awfully obliged to you, old man,” I said; 
“ I really am. But it’s past praying for. I’m ‘ in,’ 
as you say, pretty deep too I’m afraid, and I must 
try and get my own back.” 

Beck pulled up sharp, not another word did he 
say about dropping cards or twins. 

“ How much ? ” he asked shortly. 

“ About six hundred. That is to say, there are 
I. O. U.’s for six hundred, not to speak of the ready 
money that is gone the way of all flesh.” 

“ I could lend you a thousand without any 


24 


YOUNG BECK 


trouble. It would only mean a line home; they 
let me have what money I want. They are rich; 
I’m the only one, you understand, and they live 
very quietly. Say the word, and you can have the 
money the day after to-morrow.” 

“ Thanks, old chap, I’m not down to that yet.” 

“ I mean as a loan, of course.” 

“ And the security, my luck at cards, I have no 
other to offer. Oh, hang it all, I don’t mean to be 
nasty; it was very good of you to offer, but you 
see yourself that I cannot take the money from a 
friend.” 

“ I see,” said Beck reluctantly. 

“ I don’t want to ask the governor,” I went on, 
“ he is not flush at present, indeed he never is, so 
the only chance is to have it back from the twins. 
There is a chap in Shakespeare who says : 

“ ‘ When I had lost one shaft 
I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight 
The selfsame way, with more advised watch, 

To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, 

I oft found both.’ 

I liked the notion, so I got the lines by heart. 
That’s exactly what I am going to do to-night; I 
mean to have some of my I. O. U.’s back from the 
twins, or perish in the attempt. If you were a 
decent fellow you’d lend me a hand.” 

“ All right, I will.” 

I was never more taken aback in my life. 

“ Do you really mean it?” I asked. “ Don’t 
come if you don’t care to.” 

“ I really mean it. Can you bring me to their 
rooms ? ” 


THE GRAND SLAM 


25 

“ Of course I can ; they have often asked me to 
bring you along. You needn’t shake your head in 
that fashion, they are as decent a pair of chaps as 
ever stepped. It was I that made the pace so hot, 
not they, and it was not their fault that they won.” 

“ Have it your own way. I’ll come with you 
to-night and judge for myself.” 

As I had promised Beck, he had a hearty wel- 
come from the twins. I could see that he was 
surprised at their rooms. From the coloured prints 
on the wall to the Turkey carpet on the floor every- 
thing was of the best, and the best taste as well. 
There were five of us in the party, including Tom 
Staunton. The supper was perfect, and so were the 
wine and cigars. The twins did the thing in style. 
After supper they went to the piano and sang us a 
rattling good comic duet that would have made 
their fortune at one of the halls. 

It was I suggested cards; they objected. 

“ Let the cards slide for to-night, Kirwood, and 
give us a song. There will be lots of time when 
your luck has turned. Of course, if you insist you 
must have your revenge.” 

“ I’ve Beck here to-night, I may not catch him 
again in a hurry.” 

“ I’ll stand out,” said Tom Staunton. 

“ No, I did not mean that; we’ll cut, of course.” 

“ I know you did not mean it, old man,” said 
Staunton good-humouredly. “ But I’d rather not 
play, I really would. I don’t play for anything 
like big stakes, I can’t afford it, and would only 
spoil your game. I’ll drink and smoke and look 
on; I’m a first-class looker-on.” 


26 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Then Beck and I challenge you,” I said to the 
twins. “ Cut for deal.” And so we settled steadily 
down to work. 

It was Beck’s deal and he went no trumps on a 
strong hand of hearts, diamonds and spades, but 
the third hand doubled. His partner led clubs, 
and they made two tricks. After a hard struggle 
we pulled off the second game by Beck’s fine play 
but they won the third and rubber. 

At five-shilling points forty-seven pounds was 
added to the stack of my I. O. U.’s already in their 
possession. I noticed with surprise that Beck, who 
prided himself on being a ready-money man, also 
paid with an I. O. U. 

The next rubber they won right off the reel. 
Then our luck had a turn after a hard fight. At 
“ game all ” Beck dealt himself four aces, pulled 
off the little slam, and scored a big rubber. So 
the tide of success ebbed and flowed all through the 
night. At one time we were over three hundred 
pounds out when again our luck took a turn. 

Towards the end Beck played in an extraordi- 
nary erratic way in defiance of all the rules. He 
seemed now and again by a kind of second sight to 
divine what was in our opponents’ hands, and per- 
petrated some audacious finesses. After one of 
those lucky shots he leant back in his chair and 
whispered something to Staunton, who sat right 
behind him. Tom at first looked surprised as he 
glanced from one twin to the other, then he smiled 
and nodded, and watched the game more closely 
than before. 

The grey light of dawn was oozing through the 


THE GRAND SLAM 


27 


cracks in the shutters when the party broke up, and 
Beck and myself were just one hundred and sev- 
enty pounds to the bad on the night. 

“ Sorry I let you in for this, old man,” I said 
to him as we mixed a small whisky and soda and 
lit a last cigar. 

“ All right,” he answered cheerily; “ better luck 
next time.” 

At this the gambler in me exulted. I had not 
hoped that Beck would go in for another try, and 
I too made sure of better luck “ next time.” 

“ Can you give us our revenge to-morrow night 
at my place? ” I asked. 

“ Give it to you here instead ; don’t want to 
change our luck,” laughed one of the twins. 

Now I did want to change our luck — I was a 
great believer in luck, and I would have held out 
for our turn, but Beck gave me away. 

“ More comfortable here,” he cut in. “ The best 
of everything is good enough for the likes of 
us, Kirwood, and, by Jove, these fellows give 
the best. Staunton will come too, just to see fair 
play.” v 

At this one of the twins turned sharp round with 
an angry gesture. 

“ Do you mean to suggest ” he began hotly, 

but broke off at the sight of Beck’s smiling face. 
“ Of course Staunton can come if he will, only too 
delighted to have him.” 

“ Thanks awfully, old man,” said Staunton, to 
whom bridge, for its own sake, not for the stakes, 
was the business of life; “I will be delighted. I 
don’t think I ever watched more interesting play. 


28 YOUNG BECK 

I hope to pick up a few useful hints to-morrow 
night.” 

That was the first of many nights’ play. Staun- 
ton was almost invariably present, though he sel- 
dom took a hand. He was content, for the most 
part, to watch the fluctuations of the play with an 
interest that never flagged. Beck and I were al- 
most always pitted against the twins, and though 
we had a turn now and again, the luck ran pretty 
steadily against us. 

I was surprised one day to see Beck and Staun- 
ton in close confab, for they were not very chummy 
as a rule. 

We met earlier than usual that night at the 
twins’ rooms, and sat down at once after supper 
to cards. Beck handed a notebook over his shoul- 
der to Staunton. 

“ Keep a note as I told you,” he enjoined. 

“ All right,” Staunton replied. 

“ A new kind of marker ? ” asked one of the 
twins, looking up from shuffling the pack. 

“ Well, yes,” said Beck, “ a new kind of marker.” 

“Your own invention?” 

“ Not exactly; a notion I picked up from watch- 
ing the play. But I think it is a rather smart dodge, 
and I want Staunton to test it. He is the ‘ intelli- 
gent bystander,’ you know, to-night, a kind of gen- 
eral umpire. I’ll have his opinion later on. Cut! 
Seven, king, ace, nine — my deal. First blood to 
us, anyway, Kirwood; perhaps the luck is going to 
turn after all.” 

But it didn’t. It wasn’t the cards, for on the 
whole we held the better cards, but the twins played 


THE GRAND SLAM 


2 9 


into each other’s hands in a way I never saw 
equalled. Beck and I were a strong combination, 
but we were nothing to them. There seemed to be 
positive inspiration in the way they declared and 
doubled. Their finesses almost always came off, 
each found what he wanted in the other hand. 
Now and again, of course, Beck and I had a turn, 
but on the whole the tide ran steadily against us. 

At about half-past two in the morning we were 
each about three hundred pounds out; the other 
side were game up and it was their deal. 

“ Partner, you make a trump,” said the dealer. 
His partner declared hearts, and put down four 
hearts with practically nothing else except queen 
and two knaves in his hand. To my amazement 
Beck, who was third player, instead of playing laid 
his cards down flat on the table. 

“ I think we have had about enough of this,” he 
remarked very quietly. 

“ All right,” said the dealer ; “ when we finish 
this rubber we’ll stop. Luck is against you to- 
night. You can have your revenge when you like.” 

“ Thanks,” said Beck as quietly as before, “ I’ll 
have my revenge here and now. How does that 
marker work, Staunton?” 

“Like a charm,” said Staunton with a curious 
thrill of excitement in his voice that I had never 
noticed before. “ Right every time.” 

“ Don’t bother about markers, Beck,” I cried 
irritably. “ Let us get on with the game, like a 
good chap.” 

“Just one moment, if you don’t mind; this is 
really very interesting.” He took what he called 


YOUNG BECK 


30 

the marker from Staunton’s hand and showed it 
to me. This is what I saw in Beck’s clear hand- 
writing on the first page of the notebook : — 


DECLARATION. 


“ ‘ With you.’ 

“ ‘ Leave it.’ 

“ ‘ I leave it’ . 

“ ‘ I leave it to you.’ . 

“ ‘ I leave it to you, 
partner/ 

“ ‘ Make a trump.’ 

“‘You make a 
trump.’ 

“ ‘ Partner, make a 
trump.’ 

“ ‘ Make a trump, 
partner.’ . 

“ ‘ Partner, you make 
a trump.’ 


Poor all-round hand. 

Weak hand; strong spades. 
Weak hand; strong clubs. 
Weak hand; strong diamonds. 

Weak hand; strong hearts. 
Good all-round hand. 

Good hand; strong spades. 

Good hand; strong clubs. 

Good hand; strong diamonds. 

Good hand; strong hearts. 


LEADER — 


“ DOUBLING. 


“‘May I?’ . 

“‘May I play?’ 

“ ‘ Partner, may I 
play ? ’ 

“ ‘ May I play, 
partner?’ 

“ ‘ May I play to — ’ . 

“ ‘ Partner, may I play 
to — ’ 

THIRD HAND — 


Have nothing. 

Strong spades only. 

Strong clubs only. 

Strong diamonds only. 
Strong hearts only. 

Good all-round hand. 


“‘Double.’ . 

“‘I double.’ 

“ ‘ Partner, I double.’ . 
“ * I double, partner.’ . 


Want spades led. 
Want clubs led. 
Want diamonds led. 
Want hearts led.” 


I suppose I was a bit dense, but for a moment I 
did not in the least realise what the thing meant, my 
mind was all on the hand I was going to play. 

“ I can make nothing of it,” I said impatiently. 


THE GRAND SLAM 


3i 


“ Perhaps our hosts can help you,” said Beck, 
still dangerously quiet. He held out the notebook, 
and they looked at it, first one and then the other. 

I was amazed at the result. The blood rushed 
into their dark cheeks and ebbed as quickly, leav- 
ing them a sickly yellow. Their black eyes blazed, 
their faces were contorted with passion. Both 
leaped to their feet, sending their chairs back with 
a crash, and one of them snatched furiously at the 
paper in Beck’s hand. 

But Beck was too quick for him. 

“ You may look but mustn’t touch,” he cried, 
shifting the paper dexterously to the other hand. 

Then all of a sudden one of the twins broke out 
in a perfect frenzy of passion. 

“ You low sneak! ” he shouted. “ You contemp- 
tible spy! you have been rummaging in my desk 
and ” 

He pulled himself up like a horse in mad gallop 
suddenly flung back on his haunches. 

I was watching Beck at the time. I did not think 
he would stand this kind of talk, I expected a row, 
and I was ready to join in. But I was surprised 
at a sudden flash of triumph in his eyes. 

“ Thank you, thank you,” he said mockingly, 
“ but you are quite mistaken. I have not seen that 
code of yours yet. I made this up out of my own 
head by the simple process of putting two and two 
together. Staunton, will you kindly explain to 
Kirwood, who is looking as bewildered as a duck 
in a thunderstorm ? ” 

“ It means this,” said Staunton in his slow, stolid 
way. “ These two — gentlemen ” — he dwelt on 


YOUNG BECK 


32 

the word with elaborate emphasis — “ have ar- 
ranged a code of signals. Beck, here, discovered 
it by watching the fall of the cards. He made up 
a code of signals from their play; I’ve tested it 
to-night, and it comes right every time.” 

“ It’s a lie ! ” screamed the twins together. 

“ We’ll soon see,” snapped out Beck sharply, his 
politeness gone, the fighter roused in him at last. 
“ I mean to have a look at that desk.” 

With a cry one of them sprang between him and 
the desk. But again Beck was too quick for him. 
With a sharp movement of hand and foot, a trip 
and a push, the twin was over on the carpet and 
Beck was on top of him. 

“ Look to the other chap,” he cried to me over 
his shoulder, holding his man down. 

The other chap jumped for the sideboard, and 
his fingers were closing on the handle of a carving 
knife when I struck him sharply with the edge of 
my hand on the forearm, and he dropped the knife 
with a cry of pain. There was a short struggle, 
for he was fierce and active as a wild cat. As he 
waltzed me round and round the room, he made 
a desperate effort to kick Beck off his brother. 
Tables and chairs were thrown about, and the floor 
was flooded with cards. But in a moment Staun- 
ton came to my aid, and between us we mastered 
him. 

“ Tie his wrists and ankles,” panted Beck. 
“ Look alive ! and give me a hand with my chap, 
he’s a bit restive.” 

I heard the dull bump of a head on the carpet 
as Beck got his twin, who was trying to rise, down 


THE GRAND SLAM 


33 


again on his back, while Staunton and I were at 
work on the other. We knotted the handkerchiefs 
tight on wrist and ankle, and presently, in spite of 
their struggles, we had the brace securely tied lying 
side by side on the carpet. 

“ Now for the desk,” sang out Beck. “ Hand me 
that knife, Staunton, like a good chap.” 

He thrust the pointed blade of the knife right in 
to the handle under the lid of the desk, then with 
a sudden twist of his wrist he burst the lock open. 

He found what he wanted almost at once. 

“ Look, Staunton ! Look, Kirwood ! ” he cried 
exultingly. “ It’s almost the same as my own code, 
only more elaborate. Devilish clever. This is the 
paper, Charlie, your friends were studying for the 
‘ little go.’ A very interesting document which I 
will keep for further reference.” 

He thrust it into an inner pocket, while the un- 
masked scamps writhed on the floor. 

“ Hallo, hallo ! ” said Beck, still rummaging at 
the desk, “ what have we here ? A big batch of 
I. O. U.’s, our own and others. We were not the 
only victims, Kirwood. I’ll make a clean sweep of 
the lot.” 

He gathered from the desk a double handful of 
I. O. U.’s written on all sorts of scraps of paper, 
swept up the two little piles that still lay on the 
card table, the result of the night’s play, and piled 
the lot into the empty grate. 

“ A match, Staunton.” 

The little red points of flame crept in and out 
among the loosely piled scraps of paper. They 
smouldered for a moment and burst into a blaze. 


34 


YOUNG BECK 


“ It feels like burning bank notes,” said Beck. 
“ Two or three thousand pounds worth of good 
paper gone in a flash.” He grew suddenly serious 
as he turned from the fire. “ What are we going 
to do with those chaps ? ” he asked. “ That re- 
quires some thinking over.” 

So we three, in the dead waste and middle of the 
night, sat in judgment on the twins, who lay on 
the floor watching us silently. They had made no 
move and said no word from the moment they were 
overpowered. 

To my surprise stolid, good-natured Tom Staun- 
ton was the sternest member of the court-martial. 
He was strongly for public exposure and ignomin- 
ious expulsion. His devotion to bridge was, I 
think, at the bottom of it. To him it seemed a kind 
of sacrilege to cheat at the great game. Beck took 
a milder view, and after a while I sided with Beck, 
and Staunton was overruled. 

“ Listen, you chaps,” said Beck, delivering the 
judgment of the court aloud, for we had consulted 
in whispers. “ You are to leave this place for good 
— for good, remember — in three days, at the out- 
side. Do you understand? ” 

“ We understand,” they said in a sullen whisper; 
then we unbound and left them. 

At the door we parted with Staunton, and Beck 
and I walked back in the moonlight to our rooms. 
He was silent, but in a curious way I felt he wanted 
me to say something, and I was compelled to say it. 

“ Thanks, old man ; I’ve had my lesson, I won’t 
gamble again.” 

“ What — never?” 


THE GRAND SLAM 


35 

“ W ell, hardly ever. Halfpenny points or some- 
thing of that kind.” 

The pressure of his hand as we parted pinned 
me to my promise. 

Three days later the twins left the University — 
“ softly and silently vanished away.” 

Several chaps in their set were no doubt agree- 
ably surprised that their I. O. U.’s were never pre- 
sented for payment. 

“ Anyhow, they won’t trouble Miss Bloom any 
more,” was Beck’s comment. 

“ Tell me, Beck ” I began, and stopped 

short. 

After a pause he answered my unspoken ques- 
tion. 

“ No,” he said. “ I’m not in love with Lucy 
Bloom.” 


CHAPTER III 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 

I have sat for a good half-hour at the open win- 
dow with a pen in my hand and a blank sheet of 
paper in front of me, puzzling how I will get on 
with this story, and coaxing my memory to carry 
me back through the exciting scenes of my life in 
which Beck played his part. A queer sensation 
that, getting back into the past. The scenes go by 
like the pictures of a cinematograph while I am 
looking on from the outside. It is not myself but 
an image of myself I see moving there. That 
young fellow was once me, I suppose, but I have 
changed and outgrown my own identity. I feel for 
him the kind of interest a father feels for his son 
who reminds him of what he was at his age. 

I am looking back at Beck and myself at Kir- 
wood Castle for the first weeks of the long vaca- 
tion. I had done pretty well at classics at my last 
exam., he had done a deal better at mathematics, 
and so we entitled ourselves to a good holiday. 
There was a certain excitement in the air which 
centred pleasantly round myself, for I was to be 
of age the next day. 

I remember I had some trouble with the gov- 
ernor about an invitation for Beck, 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 


37 

“ My dear boy/’ he said, “ it is not necessary for 
a man of your position to keep up schoolboy friend- 
ships on to the end of your life. Besides, there is 
your sister to be considered. I am bound to be 
doubly particular as she has no mother.” 

“ Gerty can take care of herself, sir,” I an- 
swered ; “ she is not a flirtatious sort of girl that 
needs looking after, and, besides, young Beck is 
not the least bit of a lady-killer. He is the best 
friend I have; he has done me a dozen good turns, 
and there is no one, except yourself, that I would 
like better to have here.” 

The governor was staggered. He was specially 
anxious just then to let me have my own way. But 
it wasn’t till Gerty tackled him that he gave in. 

I have always maintained that Gerty is a brick. 

“ I don’t care particularly for your Beck myself,” 
she said, “ but this is your day out, and if you want 
him you must have him. I’ll undertake to show 
dad that he is not dangerous.” 

She had her way, of course, and, better still, she 
arranged that he was to be the only visitor. 

The governor wanted a crowd, but between us 
we convinced him we were better by ourselves. I 
rather fancy now he did not really care to ask swell 
friends to meet Beck. 

Beck and Gertrude got on a deal better than at 
Cambridge in a quiet, easy-going kind of way. 
Gerty, as I have said, was not a bit of a flirt, nor 
Beck a man to flirt with. After a while they were 
good friends without a trace of shyness on either 
side, and later on the governor took to him 
kindly. 




YOUNG BECK 


Beck had been with us a fortnight and was al- 
most one of the family. At breakfast one day the 
governor said in a mysterious kind of way there 
was something he wanted to show me, and after 
breakfast we all four started for a stroll across the 
grounds towards the home farm. Gerty walked in 
front with the governor. I remember she had no 
hat on, and the thick coils of her hair shone like 
burnished copper in the sunlight. Beck and I 
walked behind smoking. 

“ Is it a new cow, sir? ” I said, for the governor 
was a great breeder of short-horns, and was always 
wanting me to take an interest in them. 

Gerty looked back over her shoulder laugh- 
ingly. 

For about half a mile, perhaps a little more, we 
followed a path speckled with sunshine that trickled 
through the broken roof of the trees till we came 
to a wooden gate with stone piers set in the thick 
hedgerow. The governor, with Gertrude beside 
him, leant on the gate looking into the paddock, 
while Beck and I came leisurely up behind them. 

It was as pretty a place as any one could wish 
to see. A noisy little stream nipped in through the 
hedgerow on one side and out again on the other, 
on its way to the river. Three great beech trees 
with a wide spread O'f leaves stood well apart near 
the middle of the paddock. I knew the place well, 
of course. It was a kind of Greenwich Hospital 
for old hunters and carriage horses that had grown 
stiff in the service. 

But now my eye was caught by something new. 
A splendid long-tailed brood mare, dark chestnut, 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 


39 

walked sedately under the trees with a three- 
months-old colt at her side dancing as lightly as a 
ballet girl. 

“ Hallo, governor ! ” I cried. “ Where did you 
pick up that pair of beauties ? ” 

Gertrude took the word from me. 

“Isn’t he a darling, Charlie? Look how he 
jumps sideways like a frightened deer.” 

“ Red Deer is his name, my pet,” said the gov- 
ernor, his hand over hers on the gate. “ What do 
you think of him, Charlie? What do you think of 
him, Beck?” 

“ He is the prettiest bit of horse-flesh I ever laid 
eyes on ! ” I cried. 

“ Fit to win the Derby,” added Beck. 

“ You are not the first that thought that,” said 
the governor in high good-humour. 

“But where did you pick them up, sir?” I in- 
sisted. 

“ Thereby hangs a tale, my boy, a rather curious 
tale which I brought you here to tell. I was left 
them by will. You may remember old Sir Roger 
Coverdale who died about Christmas last, a great 
friend of your grandfather’s, and in a way of mine 
too, but especially of your grandfather’s. The two 
had many a wild adventure on the turf together. 
Sir Roger made desperate efforts all his life to win 
a Derby, and ran the first favourite three or four 
times but never the winner. Well, he left me this 
brood mare and foal on the sole condition that I 
would enter the foal for the Derby. ‘ Knew he 
could trust me,’ he said in the will, ‘ to do the 
straight thing.’ The pair are worth money. The 


40 


YOUNG BECK 


mare is Blush Rose that won the Grand National 
three years ago in record time. The sire is Orme, 
so the colt ought to be a flier.” 

“ Have you entered him, sir ? ” I asked eagerly. 

“ I’m coming to that. You see, I was in a bit 
of a pickle when the will was read. You know I 
have set my face against horse-racing and gam- 
bling of all kinds ” — I thought of the Bertram 
twins and tried to catch Beck’s eye to thank him, 
but he was looking at Gertrude — “ I suppose,” the 
governor went on, “ I should have refused the 
legacy right away, but I hadn’t the heart. You 
see, I liked old Roger, and knew the one dream of 
his life was to breed a Derby winner. So I com- 
promised with my conscience and entered the colt 
in your name.” 

“ In my name ? ” 

“ I took that liberty,” said the governor, smiling. 
“ But it is no make-belief, Charlie, no nominal 
ownership. The colt is yours, my boy, from this 
moment : a coming-of-age present from your 
father.” 

“ Thanks awfully, sir,” I stammered; “ you are 
too good to me.” 

“ O Charlie,” cried Gertrude, gripping my arm 
enthusiastically, “ I’m sure Red Deer will win the 
Derby.” 

“ He looks good enough,” said Beck, “ but — ” 

“ But what,” I protested jestingly, “ you old 
growler? Do you insinuate I’ll pull the colt?” 

“ There are more ways of killing a dog than 
hanging. I have heard from my father a lot of 
queer stories about the Derby.” 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 4 i 

“ There will be no queer story about Red Deer,” 
I retorted. 

Little I knew. 

Red Deer justified the promise of his foaldom. 
Hidden away in the quiet paddock far from the 
madding crowd of touts and tipsters, bookmakers 
and backers, he developed into a splendid yearling, 
graceful and fine from handsome head and arched 
neck to slim fetlock and small black hoof. But not 
too fine. He was no weedy, long-legged, over-bred 
greyhound of a colt. His shape promised speed 
and staying power both. The slight admixture of 
plebeian blood he had from his mother saved him 
from over-fineness. 

I confess I found it an exhilarating thing to be 
the owner of a Derby runner. The fellows chaffed 
me about it in college. But nobody, the colt’s 
owner least of all, imagined for a moment he had 
a chance of winning the classic race for which so 
many millionaires had tried in vain, lavishing for- 
tune after fortune in the attempt. 

To this day I believe the colt would not have 
carried a shilling of his owner’s in the race if it 
had not been for Gertrude. She was in love with 
Red Deer, there is no milder word for it, and the 
colt heartily reciprocated her affection. He would 
come dancing up at her call from the furthest end 
of the paddock, his head in the air, and his red- 
gold mane flying like a girl’s hair in the wind. 
Resting his velvet muzzle in her small white hand 
he would look at her with full bright brown eyes, 
almost human in their affection. She had always 
ready, as she passed the paddock, an apple or a 


42 


YOUNG BECK 


lump of sugar for her pet. It is a tribute to his 
excellent constitution that those dainties never 
troubled him. 

When it was at last decided that the colt should 
go to Dobson for training Gertrude professed her- 
self broken-hearted at the prospect of parting. 
Dobson, I should explain, was the chap who trained 
for my grandfather and old Sir Roger. He was 
uniformly unlucky, though both believed honest as 
the sun, and his lack of luck had knocked him com- 
pletely out of work. I chose him as a trainer be- 
cause I knew no other, and he was unaffectedly 
delighted, indeed I may say I thought almost child- 
ishly delighted, at the chance of training a colt that 
was bred by Sir Roger. 

But I am getting a bit in front of my story. 

About three weeks before Red Deer went to the 
trainer, Gertrude came to me in my den with an 
air of great mystery and importance, and closed 
the door carefully behind her before she spoke. 

“ I want you to do something for me, Charlie,” 
she said. 

“Murder?” I suggested. “Well, I’m your 
man.” 

“Don’t be silly. Can’t you see I’m serious? 
But it is something a little out of the way, and I 
shouldn’t like dad to know. I want you to back 
Red Deer for the Derby.” 

“ Gloves?” 

“ No, money, real money. I’ve saved thirty 
pounds out of my dress allowance, and I want you 
to put it all on. Can you ? ” 

“ I don’t know if it would be right.” 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 


43 


“ Please ! ” 

% 

There is no resisting Gertrude when she coaxes; 
even a brother cannot stand it. 

“ I’H try,” I said ; “ I think I can manage it.” 

I ran up to London that afternoon. I had done 
a little business for myself before with that prince 
of bookmakers, Mr. Benson, and was lucky enough 
to catch the great man himself at his office. 

“ Red Deer?” he said. “Let me see. Is there 
a Red Deer entered? I don’t seem to remember 
the name. Sure?” 

“ Sure,” I said, smiling, while he ran his eye 
over the entries. 

“ Here it is. Stupid of me to forget. Your own 
horse too, Lord Kirwood. Well, what can I do 
for you ? ” 

“ What odds can you give me about the horse ? ” 

“ Practically any odds you like. How would 
fifty to one suit you for a small bet ? ” 

“ My sister wants to lay thirty pounds.” 

“ All right,” said Mr. Benson, smiling that slow, 
wise smile of his that backers know so well. “ Any- 
thing to oblige a lady. I’ll book the bet at fifty to 
one. Your name, I suppose? It’s worth her while 
to win, anyway.” 

Then the gambler in me woke up. Some men, 
I’m told, if they taste or smell a glass of whisky 
cannot hold themselves in. 

“ I’d like to put three hundred on for myself,” I 
said. 

“ Sorry I cannot give you the same price, Lord 
Kirwood, I would stand to lose fifteen thou’ if I 
did lose, though I don’t think that likely. How 


44 YOUNG BECK 

would thirty suit? I think I could let you have 
thirty to one/’ 

“ Thirty would suit first rate/’ I said, and so 
the second bet was booked. 

I was a bit shamefaced when I told Beck about it. 

“ You don’t think I was going back on my word, 
old man? I only spoke of cards at the time, but 
of course I meant the other thing as well.” 

“ Three hundred on your own horse, well, you 
could hardly do less. We’ll call it bridge at penny 
points, and let it go at that. I’ll have a bit on 
myself, if you like, to keep you company.” 

Beck bet three hundred at twenty-five, and Tom 
Staunton had forty, all he could scrape together, 
at the same odds. 

These four were, I verily believe, the only bets 
on Red Deer until close up to the race. For a long 
time his name was never even mentioned in the 
betting. But somehow the result of a startling trial 
leaked out at last, and the backers took hold. The 
horse’s appearance, a perfect beauty in the pink of 
condition, helped the boom. Anyhow, the public 
caught on to him and held on, and ran up the odds. 
For a time he and Sir Charles Vandelure’s black 
horse Belerephon ran neck to neck in the betting 
list, then Red Deer slipped to the front and settled 
down steadily to “ first favourite ” at a short three 
to one while nine to two and even a point more 
was freely offered about Belerephon. 

It is an exciting experience to be the owner of 
the first favourite for the Derby on the eve of the 
great race. I think it is Carlyle who says “ a land- 
lord’s occupation is owning land.” Owning race- 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 


45 

horses is a still more exciting and popular occupa- 
tion. So much reflected glory flows from the fa- 
vourite to the owner that he is very liable to swelled 
head. He begins to imagine in some vague way 
the credit is due to him that the horse is so good, 
and the public, from the corner boy to the duke, do 
their best to make a fool of him. 

I was up in London for a fortnight before the 
Derby, staying with Beck in the governor’s town 
house. The governor and Gertrude were in the 
country, but had agreed to motor up for the race. 
I was asked about a lot, half a dozen invitations 
a day. It was like being the husband of a society 
beauty. No one, it seemed to me, wanted specially 
to meet Charlie Kirwood, but all wanted to meet 
the owner of Red Deer, first favourite for the 
Derby. 

At one of those places, a bridge drive in Park 
Lane, I came for the first time across my rival, Sir 
Charles Vandelure. Strongly built, masterful, ge- 
nial, he was known all the world over as the great 
financier, who at the age of forty made himself 
the Napoleon of the Stock Exchange, and kept a 
dozen companies going together, as a circus jug- 
gler has a dozen golden balls in the air, rising and 
falling continually but never quite touching the 
ground. He had taken to horse-racing and betting 
on a huge scale, as it was said, merely as a relaxa- 
tion from more exciting speculation. His racing 
establishment was magnificent, and this was his 
third try for the Derby. 

Sir Charles and I chummed up at once. No 
need, he said, to run against each other because 


YOUNG BECK 


46 

our horses must. After a while I found myself 
telling the story of how I came to be the owner of 
Red Deer, and he listened with great interest. 

“ It is a terrible responsibility,” he said, “ to be 
the owner of a Derby favourite. One feels bound 
in some way to the people who have backed him. 
There have been three attempts to queer Belere- 
phon in a month, and the last almost succeeded. I 
hope you have taken precautions.” 

I told him our arrangements for guarding the 
horse night and day as suggested by Beck, and he 
agreed that they were perfect. 

“ I want a fair run,” he said, “ and a good win. 
I confess to you I think the public are on a wrong 
scent, not for the first time. I fancy my own horse. 
Would you care for a small bet, a thousand or so ? ” 

I shook my head. 

“ I would give four to one against Red Deer or 
take four to one against Belerephon. You won’t 
get such odds from the bookies.” 

“ It’s not the odds,” I explained, “ but I don’t 
bet. I have three hundred on at a long shot, and 
that is my limit.” 

I could see that he thought this was an excuse, 
that I was nervous about my horse’s chance, which 
I wasn’t, but he was too well-bred to press me 
further. 

“ Come and dine with me,” he urged cordially, 
“ some day before our fate is decided. You know 
my place — not twenty miles out of London — 
half an hour’s motor run.” 

“ I’m afraid I’m engaged right up to the day 
before the race.” 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 


47 

“ I’ll book you for that last day, then. Only 
ourselves. Ed like to show you about.” 

“ I have a friend staying with me in town, I 
cannot well desert him.” 

“ All right,” he said, after the briefest possible 
pause, “ bring your friend along too, I shall be 
delighted.” 

“We must get back early.” 

“ As early as you like. Dinner at seven ; will 
that suit ? Then it’s settled, and don’t forget. 
Shall we look how they ‘keep the bridge’ in the 
next room ? ” 

During the next week there were sensational 
rumours of big bets taken and offered against Red 
Deer. A regular raid was made on my horse. Half 
a dozen bookies simultaneously conceded a point 
in the odds, and booked big bets against him. Sir 
Charles himself, backed Belerephon with the splen- 
did recklessness of unlimited wealth. 

But the public through it all held steadily to its 
fancy, and on the evening I motored down to Sir 
Charles Vandelure’s place, Feversham, Red Deer 
was still first favourite though Belerephon was very 
close behind. 

There is little to tell of the run down. The 
roads were good and hard, and we broke the speed 
limit to bits every yard of the way. About four 
or five miles from our destination the hill-climbing 
powers of our car were tested to the utmost. With- 
out warning we came at a steep ascent round the 
sweep of a high demesne wall. Beck, who was 
driving, tried to rush it at top speed. But the hill 
was long as well as steep, and we just contrived 


YOUNG BECK 


48 

to crawl at a snail’s pace over the edge on to the 
level road at the top. After that the road was as 
smooth as a billiard table and almost as level, and 
less than a ten minutes’ run brought us to the great 
twisted iron gates of the palace, which the Napo- 
leon of finance had built for himself. 

The avenue wound through well-grown trees, 
many of them transplanted in their prime from 
their native woods. The palace itself, from turret 
to foundation-stone, was of red brown marble. At 
first glance, indeed, with its rich stone fagade, it 
looked more like a temple than a palace. Within 
it was glorious, astounding. 

I could go into pages of rapture about that won- 
derful place. But I have not the knack of descrip- 
tion, and I fear my raptures would read like an 
auctioneer’s catalogue. Every one knows by this 
time the marvellous luxury, the miraculous art 
treasures of Feversham, so there is no reason to 
prose about all I saw with such wonder and delight. 

We had nearly an hour to spare before dinner — 
we had come early by request — and our host 
showed us over a palace that a monarch or a multi- 
millionaire American might envy. 

We dined at a round table in a small room, hung 
with dark crimson velvet with a series of delightful 
sporting sketches on the walls. There were no 
lamps visible, but the light was clear and soft as 
a June day when the sun is hidden behind white 
summer clouds. 

I never dined like that before, I never hope to 
dine like that again. It was not so much that the 
food and wine were perfect, the exquisite plate, 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 


49 


glass and silver, everything we saw, everything we 
touched was perfection. Lucullus’ banquets, I 
fancy, were poor affairs by comparison. After 
dinner we drank Imperial Tokay out of large 
Venetian glasses with twisted stems, that had per- 
haps touched the lips of some old doge in the great 
days of the old Republic. 

“ I won’t say from whose cellar that wine was 
stolen, or how much I paid the thief,” said our host; 
“ but I will say I think it is worth the price. If 
you will honour me again this day week we will 
drink to the Derby winner in a bumper. I fancy 
I could name him now if I were pressed.” 

“ Red Deer ? ” I suggested good-humouredly. 

“ Belerephon,” he retorted with no less good 
humour. “ Have you changed your mind, Lord 
Kirwood, are you ready to back your fancy? I’m 
in a humour to give reckless odds if you make it 
worth my while.” 

I was sorely tempted, but I shook my head, I 
could not trust myself to speak. 

“What do you call reckless?” It was Beck 
asked the question. 

“ I’ll back my own horse for any amount, twenty 
thousand and upwards.” 

“ Against Red Deer ? ” 

“ No, not against any particular horse. If 
neither wins there may be no official decision of 
their places. But I will take three to one against 
Belerephon, I will give four to one against Red 
Deer, that’s a long way better than the odds the 
bookies offer. What do you say, Lord Kirwood ? ” 

Again I shook my head. 


50 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Will nothing tempt you? Come, I’ll play the 
devil effectively when I’m at it. I’ll give you five 
to one against your horse, twenty thousand to win 
a hundred thousand. You won’t have such a 
chance again in a hurry if you really think the colt 
can do the trick.” 

“ I haven’t twenty thousand to lay. It is a mere 
bagatelle to you, of course, Sir Charles, but twenty 
thousand pounds is a big pile of money to me.” 

“ Don’t bother about that,” laughed Sir Charles. 
“ Just give me your initials in my betting book, 
and I’ll take my chance of the rest.” 

If Beck had not been there I might have yielded, 
for I was all on flame for the bet. But I felt Beck’s 
eye on me, and shook my head for the third time. 

“ Not to be tempted, Sir Charles,” I said, and he 
knew I was not to be tempted. 

“ You, Mr. Beck,” he suggested blandly, “ the 
offer is open to you.” 

To my amazement Beck seemed to hesitate. 

“ A hundred thousand to twenty against Red 
Deer,” he repeated slowly. 

“ Just so.” 

At that moment Sir Charles, with his strong 
hooked nose and gleaming dark eyes fixed on Beck, 
seemed to me like a hawk with his foot on the prey. 

But Beck was not caught. 

“ No, no,” he said, “ I must not rob you, Sir 
Charles, even of a trifle like a hundred thousand. 
You know how to spend money so splendidly you 
deserve to have it. All the same, I believe that, 
bar accidents, Red Deer will win.” 

For a moment I fancied a shadow of annoyance 


A DERBY FAVOURITE 


5i 

flitted over the strong handsome face of Sir 
Charles. If so it was gone in a second. 

“ Bar accidents,” he said, toying with his glass 
of Tokay, while his eyes glanced from one of us 
to the other. “ That’s not always a safe exception, 
Mr. Beck, on the turf, as you may some day find. 
I congratulate you both on your prudence, gentle- 
men; I believe it has saved you quite a handsome 
little fortune to-night.” 

Not a word more was spoken of betting or 
racing. Sir Charles led the talk dexterously into 
new channels. It is always delightful to hear a 
clever man talk on the topic of which he is past 
master. He told us some thrilling stories of high 
finance, its wiles, its conflicts, its triumphs, and its 
tragedies. 

I wish I could remember some of them, but I 
cannot. Perhaps it was the Tokay, perhaps it was 
subsequent events that blotted out the details. I 
carry away from that dinner only a vague but de- 
lightful memory of having thoroughly enjoyed 
myself. 

“ Here’s to our next merry meeting! ” cried our 
host as we rose to go. At a motion of his hand 
a soft-footed butler filled our three glasses to the 
brim with the liquid gold of the priceless wine. 

“Here’s to our next merry meeting!” he cried 
again, and drained his glass. 

“ We’ll meet all three to-morrow at the races,” 

I said. 

“ If we are all three alive,” corrected Beck, and 
Sir Charles murmured softly: 

“ If we are all three alive,” 


CHAPTER IV 




A CLOSE SHAVE 

To the last Sir Charles was most cordial, and 
insisted on our lighting huge cigars, though Beck 
declared that it was profanity to waste such to- 
bacco in the hurricane of a motor drive. 

Perhaps it was for that reason he went so slowly 
down the avenue. The night was pitch dark. I 
have heard it said that you cannot enjoy smoking 
unless you can see the smoke. I know I never 
enjoyed anything more than that superb cigar of 
which the red glow only was visible, bright or dim 
as I pulled at it. 

When we were outside the gate Beck tossed his 
cigar away, a comet trailing a stream of sparks 
through the darkness. 

“ Why did you do that? ” I asked. “ You don’t 
get cigars like that every day.” 

“ I fancy I found a faint flavour of opium,” he 
said. “ It made me feel sleepy, and I most par- 
ticularly don’t want to feel sleepy.” 

We passed through the twisted iron gates, but 
still crept on at a snail’s pace. 

“ Let her rip,” I said. “ Don’t mind me, the 
glass shelters the cigar.” 

“ I want to think.” 


A CLOSE SHAVE 


53 


“ Can’t you think and drive ? ” 

“ Not so well. Let me be for a few minutes, like 
a decent fellow. I want to think about Sir Charles, 
he is a most interesting and important subject.” 

Still the car stole on, mile after mile, we were 
near the edge of the steep descent before Beck 
woke up from his brown study. 

“ Well,” he said softly to himself, “ he can do 
nothing to-night anyway, we must look out for 
to-morrow, that’s all.” 

He was on the point, as he told me afterwards, 
of starting the car at high speed, and driving us 
both to death when a sudden thought gripped him. 

“ I wonder,” I heard him murmur, then he cried 
out in sudden surprise and horror. That instant 
he threw off the clutch and jammed the brakes 
down, but the car still slid softly and silently of 
her own momentum towards the edge of the de- 
cline. 

We were hardly a hundred yards off when Beck 
deliberately turned her across the road. She 
pushed against the wall, crumbled up one of her 
lamps, and stood stock still. 

“ Brakes won’t work,” he said. 

“ How ,” I began. 

“ I think I can guess how, but we must see for 
ourselves.” 

The briefest examination showed us the thing 
was not the result of an accident. The brakes had 
been deliberately and artistically doctored. 

“Well, I’m jiggered! ” I began, in sheer amaze- 
ment. 

“ Near it,” retorted Beck, a little impatiently. 


YOUNG BECK 


54 

“ Very near being eternally and infernally jiggered. 
Man alive, can’t you understand what this means ? ” 

“ Hanged if I can.” 

“ Why, it’s as plain as ABC ! You know, I 
suppose, that if the nominator of a Derby winner 
is killed before the race the horse is disqualified. 
Sir Charles was very certain to-night that Red 
Deer wouldn’t win.” 

“ Oh ! ” I cried, in sudden horror. 

“ Double oh,” Beck retorted, ‘‘that’s just it. I 
should have suspected it before when he was so 
keen on that bet. I did suspect it in the end, but 
I never thought of this way out. I fancied to- 
morrow perhaps. There is no shirking it, Charlie, 
let us face the stark naked fact. Sir Charles meant 
murder, means murder. This was a trap for you. 
I have heard rumours that his financial position 
was shaky, but I didn’t believe them at the time, 
now I do. He has enormous bets on the race, 
probably he stands to win or lose a million. A 
desperate and dangerous man, and he is not going 
to let your life stand in his way if he can help it.” 

“ But how ” I began again foolishly. I was 

dazed by the sudden and terrible disclosure. 

“ We will have time to talk that over later on. 
The thing now is to get the brakes free.” 

“ Can you? ” 

“ I think so ; if not we must walk back to town.” 

But he had them free after half an hour’s hard 
work by the light of the glaring lamp, which I 
held for him; and we started again cautiously 
down the hill and rapidly along the rest of the 
road into London. 


A CLOSE SHAVE 


55 

My man was in bed when we arrived. I had 
told him not to wait for us but to leave something 
ready on a tray. We both wanted a drink badly, 
so I switched on the electric light and led the way 
into the dining-room, when Beck called out to me : 

“ Take the tray and the other things into this 
room where the telephone is. I fancy you may hear 
something to your advantage presently.” 

We had finished the bottle, what my man had left 
for us, and lit a final cigar when the telephone bell 
rang violently. I jumped to the instrument but 
before I reached it Beck called out to me: 

“ Don’t answer, whatever you do don’t answer 
him!” 

“ Hallo! Hallo! Are you there? ” came a voice 
which I recognised at once. “ Is that 209 ? Can 
I speak to Lord Kirwood? Is that you, Kirwood? 
Hallo ! are you there ? ” 

The receiver was put back at the other end, and 
the bell rang for a full minute as it seemed to me. 
“ Hallo ! ” came that familiar voice again, “ are you 
there ? Are you there ? ” I still kept dead silent, 
and I heard on the other side a sigh of satisfaction. 
Then the bell rang off, and the one-sided interview 
was over. 

“ Why shouldn’t I talk to him ? ” I asked, turn- 
ing round to Beck, whose cigar had gone out. 
“ What does it all mean, anyhow ? ” 

“ It means that he wants to make sure, as far as 
he can, that you are dead and done for. Sir 
Charles is taking no chances. It was a very neat 
notion of his about the motor.” Beck spoke in an 
impersonal tone, there was actually a note of ad- 


YOUNG BECK 


56 

miration in his voice. “ We should have been 
found crumbled up in bits, car and all, at the wall 
at the bottom of the hill. Just an ordinary acci- 
dent, nothing to explain, no one to blame except 
perhaps the reckless driver, who had paid so dearly 
for his recklessness. Sir Charles is a man to have 
more than one string to his bow, and it is just as 
well that he should think that no second shot is 
required.” 

‘‘But to-morrow?” I objected. “He will meet 
me at the races to-morrow.” 

“ I have been thinking of that. I suppose you 
must go.” 

“ I wouldn’t miss it for twenty Sir Charleses. 
The governor and Gertrude are to be there, you 
know. They would think I was dead. Besides 
what can he do, after all, on a crowded race- 
course ? ” 

“ I don’t trust him. I’ve often thought a crowd 
would make a first-class cover for an adroit mur- 
der. But I have a plan in my head if you don’t 
think it too far fetched.” 

“ Tell it, anyway.” 

I dropped into the plan at once. To me it seemed 
no end of a lark. For five minutes we discussed 
the details, then Beck said : 

“We cannot do anything for three hours at least. 
Set the alarm clock, and let us get some sleep. I 
think I know where we will catch what we want.” 

In the grey dawn we dressed carefully in full 
Derby rig-out, caught a benighted hansom and 
drove to a benighted quarter of the East End with 
which Beck seemed familiar, but which I had never 


A CLOSE SHAVE 


57 

seen before. I have forgotten the name, and he is 
not here now to ask him. 

The whole place was a ferment for the Derby 
exodus. There were coster-mongers and tent rig- 
gers and three card men and Punch and Judy 
operators, and donkeys and mules and ponies at- 
tached to all sorts of vehicles and all ready for the 
road. 

The advent of two “ Toffs ” on the busy scene 
created a lot of good-humoured bantering curi- 
osity. When Beck explained vaguely that it was 
“ for a bet ” they were all at once eager to help 
us to win. 

We had our pick of the many characters avail- 
able, and after some hesitation we decided we 
would be “ Aunt Sally’s ” men for the day. I had 
rather a hankering after a Punch and Judy show 
myself, but Beck persuaded me that we could never 
get the squeak right at such short notice. Two 
men and a boy ran the Aunt Sally. The boy was 
general utility, and among other things drove the 
lively little pony that drew the neat spring van, in 
which the stock and trade of the business, includ- 
ing Aunt Sally herself and a gross of clay pipes, 
were stowed. 

We hired the outfit for the day, including the 
boy at something in excess of its full capital value. 
Then we set about our disguises. Money talks per- 
suasively in the East End. We secured two long, 
light drab coats, comparatively clean, and two pairs 
of big boots, with the old-fashioned elastic sides 
that slipped on quite easily over our own. Beck 
even managed, though with some difficulty, to pro- 


YOUNG BECK 


58 

cure for me a pair of false mutton chop whiskers, 
that belonged to a thimble rigger’s bonnet, and for 
himself a neat black moustache which I fancy was 
the private property of a pick-pocket. 

“ You see, old man,” he said, “ you will want 
to be yourself when you lead Red Deer to the 
enclosure.” 

“ If he wins,” I corrected. 

“ If me no ifs; I say when he wins.” Beck was 
in wonderful humour, enjoying the frolic like a 
schoolboy. “ When he wins you can throw these 
things off, boots, coat and all, and come out your- 
self like a butterfly out of a caterpillar’s overcoat.” 

“ But the hats,” I objected. “ Won’t the silk 
toppers give us away?” 

“ Not in the least,” he said, “ there is nothing in 
art or nature more disreputable than a Lincoln and 
Bennet rubbed the wrong way. See! One brush 
of the sleeve of your coat will make it all right 
again.” 

I should like to tell of that strange journey to 
the Downs in the heart of that fantastic procession, 
and of the incidents that befell us in the ground. 
But these things are off the course of my story. 

Comparing notes afterwards, Beck and I agreed 
that we never enjoyed a Derby so thoroughly. A 
large number of the clay pipes we broke ourselves, 
free of charge, on the imperturbable face of Aunt 
Sally. 

Beck developed a wonderful skill with the flying 
baton. His performances attracted crowds of spec- 
tators and admirers, who afterwards developed 
into competitors, and who filled the pockets of our 


A CLOSE SHAVE 


59 


loose overcoats with jingling coppers and six- 
pences — the only money either of us had ever 
earned in our lives. In the course of the day I 
had a flattering offer of an engagement as bonnet, 
a “ thick un hit or miss/’ from a three card trick 
man, for which I think I was indebted to my re- 
spectable mutton chop whiskers. 

We pitched our canvas curtains as near as we 
could to the carriage enclosure, and early in the 
day we picked out the governor and Gertrude sit- 
ting together in the motor. She was looking her 
best in a light blue costume, that matched the blue 
of the sky, and all day long there was a buzzing 
group of young swells about the motor. I noticed 
that Beck’s head was often turned in the same 
direction, and that he did not look too pleased at 
times. 

Twice I saw Sir Charles saunter up smiling, and 
talk to them, and once from the look on my sis- 
ter’s face I guessed he asked about me, and shared 
her surprise and annoyance at my unaccountable 
absence. 

As the hour drew on for the big race all other 
business round the course began to flag; the gov- 
ernor and Gertrude moved from the motor to good 
places on the grand stand; and we let Aunt Sally 
shift for herself, and went as near as we could to 
the rails. 

A great hush of tense excitement seemed to fall 
of a sudden on the vast crowd that thronged the 
course. I heard the distant clang of a bell. Then 
a loud cry with the deep volume of thunder went 
up from a hundred thousand throats : 


6o 


YOUNG BECK 


“They’re off! They’re off!” 

My heart leaped up as I saw the bright chestnut 
horse that carried my colours, green and gold, leap 
to the front at the start and flash across the sward 
with Belerephon, a splendid black, with rider in 
vivid scarlet jacket and black cap galloping close 
at his flank. 

All else was forgotten as I watched the race in 
a fierce fever of excitement. Like a string of col- 
oured beads the horses drew out round the wide 
green curve of the course. The glasses brought 
them so near that I could see the swift, graceful 
swing of the horses’ stride, and could see the jock- 
eys crouched like monkeys on the arched necks of 
the flying steeds. 

Red Deer kept his lead from the first, but Bel- 
erephon still held his place half a stride behind 
upon the leader’s outer flank; the knowing ones 
were right, there was nothing else in the race. 
Half a dozen times the pair were challenged; a 
speck of vivid colour drew slowly, slowly closer 
to them, drew almost level, and then fell swiftly 
behind while the chestnut and black, close together, 
kept their places in the front. 

So they flew round Tattenham corner, so they 
raced into the straight, while the hoarse cry of the 
two names, “ Red Deer ! ” “ Belerephon ! ” “ Red 
Deer ! ” “ Belerephon ! ” swelled louder and louder 
on the quivering air. 

What a long second it seemed as they came down 
the straight together, well in front of the field. 
My hope did not deceive me. I saw the chestnut 
draw slowly clear of pursuit. A light shone be- 


A CLOSE SHAVE 


61 


tween the two horses. It widened while the cry on 
the course changed to one uproarious shout : “ Red 
Deer ! Red Deer ! The favourite wins ! ” and the 
favourite shot past the winning post three good 
lengths in front of his rival. 

Unnoticed in the mad confusion that followed, I 
tossed aside the covering dust-coat, slipped the 
clumsy boots from my feet, plucked off the whis- 
kers, rubbed my sleeve two or three times round 
my ruffled topper, and then with Beck at my side, 
pushing and elbowing my way through the throng, 
which parted for me at the magic words : “ The 
Owner! Make way there, Red Deer’s owner,” till 
I reached my horse’s head, as he came slowly back 
along the course. As I took the rein a thunder of 
cheering broke out louder than before. 

I saw the governor and Gertrude leap to their 
feet when they caught sight of me, and join fran- 
tically in the cheer; the governor, the sober, staid, 
anti-gambling governor waving his hat over his 
head like a mad-man. 

Then for the first time^ out of the corner of my 
eye, I noticed Sir Charles Vandelure standing close 
to the rails watching me as a man might watch a 
ghost. He stood stock still with his right hand in 
the breast of his coat. The slant shine of the sun 
was in my face, half-blinding me, yet I fancied I 
could see a murderous light in his eyes. I must 
have been mistaken, for the next minute, when I 
was clear of the blinding glare, I saw that there 
was a smile on his face and his hand came out of 
the bosom of his coat to raise his hat in courteous 
salute as I passed. 


62 


YOUNG BECK 


It is no part of the story to tell what a jolly time 
we four, the governor and I, Beck and Gertrude, 
had in London that night, and how curious and 
amused Gertrude was by our mad frolic as Aunt 
Sally’s retainers, little dreaming how grim a trag- 
edy lay close behind. 

Next day, in common with all London, we were 
electrified by the news that Sir Charles Vandelure 
had shot himself on his way home in his motor 
with one of those new patent pistols with noiseless 
and smokeless cartridges. The pistol was found in 
the bottom of the car. The man beside him saw 
nothing, heard nothing, until at a jolt of the motor 
he lurched against him stone dead. 

The Daily Telegraph, commenting on the trag- 
edy, remarked what a peril such a silent and deadly 
weapon might prove in the hands of a cunning 
murderer. 

I have my doubts to this day whether Sir Charles 
did not mean the bullet for me instead of himself, 
if he chanced to meet me before the race was run 
and won. 

Beck declares he has no doubt at all on the point. 



CHAPTER V 


FLIGHT 

I don’t think that I mentioned before that my 
father, Lord Stanton, was Secretary of State for 
Foreign Affairs. 

When this thing happened that I am going to 
tell about, Beck was with his own people in Kent, 
and I was lazing about doing nothing at home. 
It was settled that I was to go in for politics, but 
there was no seat ready for me at the moment. 
The governor, I remember, was very busy and 
excited, running up and down to London every 
other day, and the newspapers were full of rumours 
of war. There were all sorts of picturesque head- 
ings. One morning it would be : “ The War Cloud 
Darkens,” the next it would be : “ The Silver 

Lining,” a third, “ The Scream of the Eagle ; ” and 
the government was denounced and exhorted in 
tremendous leading articles to spend more and 
more money on war-ships, submarines, and aero- 
planes. „ % 

The governor was very solemn and mysterious 
about the whole business. Neither Gertrude nor 
myself could get a word from him beyond the 
vague statement that “ affairs were very critical, 
very critical indeed, but we must hope for the 


YOUNG BECK 


64 

best.” But he was constantly closeted with his new 
private secretary, Ernest Malvers, for hours at a 
time, and there was a perpetual procession of tele- 
graph boys on bicycles up the avenue. 

Perhaps this is the right time to say a word or 
two about Malvers, who plays a big part in the 
story. He was a young fellow with a long hand- 
some face, jet black hair, soft brown eyes and about 
the pleasantest smile I ever saw when he did smile, 
which was not often. I thought for a while that 
Gertrude was a bit gone on him. She praised him, 
in a way that I never could get her to praise Beck. 
It was plain, too, that the governor thought no 
end of Malvers, who had come to him with a rec- 
ommendation from the Prime Minister. He was 
constantly holding him up to me as a model, in 
a way that was bound to make me hate him if he 
was not such a thoroughly decent chap himself. 

Mark my words,” the governor would say, 
“ that young fellow is bound to go far. He has 
the two great essentials, industry and talent.” 

Malvers was singing duets with my sister in the 
music-room one evening, for he had a glorious 
baritone voice. I was sitting out on the terrace 
smoking and listening with perfect contentment 
when the governor, who had just arrived from 
London, came into the room in a fluster and scat- 
tered the lot of us. 

“ Have you the correspondence copied, Mal- 
vers? ” he said hastily. 

“ No, sir,” said Malvers. 

“Why not? why not?” He was nearer being 
angry with Malvers than I ever saw him before. 


FLIGHT 65 

“ You told me there was no hurry, sir,” said 
Malvers mildly. 

“ But there is hurry,” objected the governor, as 
if that were the other chap’s fault. “ In any case 
it is better to get through an important thing at 
once. It is always better to be too soon than too 
late, Malvers. The papers are wanted for to-mor- 
row evening at the latest.” 

“ Oh,” said Malvers, evidently relieved, “ I can 
have them ready easily to-morrow evening. It 
only means sitting up a few hours to-night and 
working steadily to-morrow. I have a good bit 
done as it is.” 

“ You have kept the papers in the safe, as I 
told you ? ” 

“ Of course I have,” said Malvers, then after a 
pause, “ there is a passage that puzzled me a bit, 
sir. I would like you to have a look at it.” 

The governor went off with him to his room 
near the top of the castle, leaving Gertrude and 
myself alone. 

“ Clever of Mr. Malvers,” she said, smiling to 
herself as she put up her music. “ Of course he 
only wanted to show dad that he had all those 
papers safe.” 

“ Do you like him, Gerty ? ” I asked irrelevantly. 

“ Pretty well but he is almost too clever for 
me. 

We saw little of the governor or his private 
secretary for the rest of the evening. It was a hot 
cloudy night, I remember, and there was a strange 
hush and heaviness in the air, the kind of thing 
that makes one say afterwards, “ I knew something 


66 


YOUNG BECK 


terrible was going to happen ! ” Towards morning 
a strong wind rose and howled dismally. 

Something terrible did happen. Malvers did not 
come down for breakfast or lunch; he was sup- 
posed to be hard at work in his own room. About 
five in the evening the governor sent for him. The 
servant failed to secure an answer or to get in. 
The door was found to be locked on the inside, 
and the key left in the lock. The governor, when 
he heard it, was terribly excited, and ordered the 
door to be burst open at once. The inner door 
of his bedroom was locked too, in the same way, 
and the lock held till the door burst from its hinges 
into a room already full of disorder and breakage. 
Malvers was not there, but there were plain marks 
in the room of a desperate struggle. Broken fur- 
niture was flung all over the place. On several 
articles there were blood stains, and almost the last 
thing found, flung far under the bed, I came upon 
a life preserver, with clotted blood and a few black 
hairs sticking to it. 

The French window, which opened on a wrought 
iron balcony, stood ajar. A kind of grappling iron, 
a thing with curved prongs like a small anchor, 
was caught at the top bar of the iron railing, and 
a long knotted rope hung down within five or six 
feet of the ground. 

It seemed pretty plain that Malvers had been 
attacked from behind as he sat at his desk. The 
desk itself was overturned and the ink spilt on the 
carpet. In the corner the safe stood wide open with 
the key in the lock, and there was not a scrap of 
paper of any kind left in the room. 


FLIGHT 


67 

I never saw a sane man so near madness as the 
unfortunate governor as he ranged round the room. 
At first he could only rage and storm and fling 
his hands about like a lunatic. But at last I led 
him down to the study, and tried to quiet him a 
bit. 

“ For God’s sake, sir,” I said, “ keep cool. If 
there is anything to be done ” 

“ Nothing can be done,” he cried, “ nothing ! 
It is too late ! ” And then to my horror he burst 
out crying like a frightened child. I could only 
stand there and look at him helplessly. After a 
minute he came to a little. 

“ O Charlie,” he sobbed, “ this thing is too hor- 
rible. It means disgrace and ruin to me, that, I 
should not mind, but it means a European war into 
which England is sure to be dragged, and I am 
responsible. Their blood is on my head.” 

“ That is pure nonsense, sir,” I said gruffly. 
“ You did your best, I’m sure. Do your best still. 
You have got to buck up, and let your mind act. 
It seems pretty plain that when the papers were 
stolen poor Malvers was kidnapped or murdered! 
Is there any one you suspect ? ” 

“ John Brandon, most likely, yet it could hardly 
be he.” 

“ Who is this Brandon, anyway? ” 

“ He is an international spy, the most ingenious, 
the most daring, the most unscrupulous. His ex- 
ploits are famous in all chancelleries of Europe. 
He stops at nothing. He seems to be ubiquitous 
to pass from one country to another, quicker than 
steam can carry him. He has been caught half a 


68 


YOUNG BECK 


dozen times, but when proof seemed most conclu- 
sive he had always an alibi still more conclusive.” 

“ Where is he now ? ” 

“ In London, at least he was yesterday. He 
arrived quite openly, that’s what put me into such 
a flurry. The Scotland Yard men had orders to 
watch him close every minute of night and day. 
It was hardly possible he could have slipped away 
from them. I’ll telegraph to London and find 
out.” 

The governor was himself again, the quick- 
witted, resolute man, who was respected in the 
Cabinet and the country. His mind had been 
thrown off its balance for a moment by the shock, 
it righted itself as quickly. A score or so of men 
were got together and sent out to search the grounds 
round the castle for the thief, or trace of the thief. 
Then he wired to Scotland Yard to have the ports 
and railway stations watched, though we both felt 
the precaution was futile while we were completely 
in the dark as to the thief’s identity. 

We were still hard at work, planning and writing, 
when a tap came to the study door. I opened it a 
little impatiently and found Gertrude there. 

“ Well? ” I asked ungraciously. 

“ Don’t be cross, Charlie,” she pleaded. “ I feel 
for poor dad just as much as you do. When I saw 
him in such a state I wired right away in your 
name to your friend, Mr. Beck, to come over at 
once.” 

I could have kissed her there and then, indeed I 
believe I did kiss her. 

“ It was the very thing I should have done my- 


FLIGHT 


69 

self,” I cried, “ and stupidly forgot to do. You are 
a glorious girl, Gerty. Has he answered? When 
do you expect him ? ” 

“ He has come. He was here in his motor before 
his wire came to say he was coming.” 

“ Where, where ? ” 

“ In poor Mr. Makers’ room. He told me to tell 
you he was come, and then ran right up like a 
squirrel.” 

“ You tell the governor Beck is here, Gerty, like 
a good girl, he’ll be glad, I know. I’ll run up to 
him. If any one can help us out of this hobble he 
can.” 

“ And will,” she answered confidently. 

I found Beck in Makers’ room. He was going 
rapidly through the disordered furniture, now 
mounting a chair, now going down on all fours. 
Nothing escaped his keen scrutiny. I stood silent 
at the door watching him. In two minutes he was 
through. He set the life preserver with the blood 
and hair on, on a small table in front of him, and 
peered at it through a pocket microscope. 

“ Thanks for coming, old man,” I said, “ have 
you found anything? ” 

“ So far only enough to puzzle me,” he answered 
shortly, and went out of the French window on to 
the balcony. So absorbed was he that he did not 
appear to notice that I followed him. 

There were six hooks in all to the grappling iron 
that held the rope to the top rail of the balustrade. 
Beck took it off twice, and replaced it twice. Then 
he surprised me. 

“ I’m going down this way, Charlie,” he said. 


7 o YOUNG BECK 

“ Lock the door on the outside, and come down to 
me below.” 

Before I could answer a word he slung himself 
over the balcony and went down the long rope, hand 
over hand, as lightly as a spider on his thread. 

I watched him to the end. The rope, as I have 
said, hung five or six feet clear of the ground. 
When he reached the end Beck swung backwards 
and forwards for a moment before he dropped, 
rebounding from the ground like a rubber ball. 

It was hard gravel where he landed, and he could 
hardly have hoped to find a footprint, but he 
at once bent down and examined it most carefully, 
first right under the rope’s end, then in a wide cir- 
cle. Presently he left the gravel and began to ex- 
amine the flower beds that surrounded it. I shut 
the window, locked the door behind me, and ran 
down to join him. 

“ Found anything? ” I asked again. 

“ What I expected — nothing. I have been 
proving a negative. So far the business is an abso- 
lute puzzle, but by proving what didn’t happen we 
may come at last to what did. I suppose Lord 
Stanton is terribly cut up over this.” 

“ Horribly. You can’t imagine it, old chap. He 
swears it means disgrace and ruin to him, worse 
still it means a European war if we can’t catch the 
thief at once.” 

“I couldn’t see him, could I? There is just a 
question or two I should like to ask.” 

“ I’m sure he’d see you.” 

We found the governor and Gertrude in the 
study busy reading and despatching telegrams. Ger- 


FLIGHT 


7i 

trude was going to slip away when we came in but 
the governor called to her to stay. The hysterical 
fit, which had so shocked me, had completely dis- 
appeared; he looked pale and haggard, no doubt 
and no wonder, but his mind was in good working 
order again. 

“ Glad to see you, Beck, very glad to see you. 
This is a black business. Have you discovered any- 
thing to help? ” 

“ I have been proving negatives so far, sir. I 
shall tell you what I have found in a moment, if 
you will allow me to ask you a question or two.” 

“ As many as you please, my boy.” 

“ Have any traces of the thief or thieves been 
found in the grounds ? ” 

“ None.” 

“ So I expected.” 

“ But why ? ” I began. 

“ In a moment. You were telling Charlie, sir, 
that there is an international spy you are inclined 
to suspect.” 

“ Oh, he’s out of it,” said the governor. “ I have 
had a wire from London to say that the police have 
never lost sight of him since his arrival in London. 
He has not even attempted to make any mystery of 
his whereabout or movements.” 

“ Perhaps,” I butted in again, “ he is preparing 
an alibi. You said he was a devil for an alibi.” 

“ Have you by any chance a photo of the fel- 
low ? ” asked Beck. 

“ Certainly,” the governor answered. He went 
to a locked cabinet, selected a photo from a bundle, 
and carried it back to us, 


72 


YOUNG BECK 


“ A Bertram twin,” cried Beck and myself simul- 
taneously. 

Gertrude, to whom I had told the twin story in 
confidence, exclaimed, “ One of the cheats ! ” and 
stopped in confusion. 

The governor looked from one to the other in 
utter confusion. 

“ The Bertram twins,” explained Beck hurriedly, 
“ are the two chaps whom Charlie and I met at 
Cambridge, and of whom we learned something not 
particularly to their advantage. They are as like 
as your two hands.” 

“ This explains the alibis, anyway,” I said. 

“ The fact that one brother is displaying himself 
openly in London,” Beck went on, “ suggests that 
the other is engaged secretly elsewhere. May I ask 
what power employs him ? ” 

The governor whispered a name. 

“ Oh,” cried Beck, “ the danger of war is there? ” 
and the governor nodded. I could see how hard 
he found it to hold himself in. 

“ Tell us what you found, Beck,” I interrupted. 
“ Have you any notion who robbed Malvers ? ” 

“ No one,” said Beck. 

“ Who assaulted and wounded him ? ” 

“ No one. He wasn’t assaulted, he wasn’t 
wounded, he wasn’t robbed.” 

“ But the furniture was all smashed about.” 

“ He did that himself.” 

“ But the bloody life preserver I saw you 
examine ? He didn’t break his own head, did 
he?” 

“ No one broke it.” 


FLIGHT 


73 

“ But the blood and the hairs, he must have been 
hit on the head.” 

“ Nonsense,” interrupted Beck. “ How could a 
blow on the head with a round knob pull out those 
hairs? A sharp weapon might cut them off, per- 
haps. Malvers had false clues in his mind when he 
glued those hairs of his to the life preserver with 
blood that wasn’t his own blood either, I dare 
swear.” 

“ The rope that was flung up to the balcony ? ” 

“ It wasn’t flung up, it was let down by Malvers. 
But he never went down it. You noticed I did not 
drop straight from the cord. I did not want to 
spoil any tracks on the gravel right under, if there 
were any, but there were none. It was easy to find 
marks where I dropped. It was even possible to 
find traces of my feet across the gravel, but there 
were no others. Lord Stanton has just told us no 
trace of any kind has been found about the grounds. 
I am as certain as I stand here that no one flung 
up that rope to Malvers, and that no one came 
up or down it. It was a blind to throw us off the 
track.” 

“ But, my dear fellow,” I objected, “ Malvers is 
certainly gone. There are only two ways out of 
his room, the door and the window. It could 
not have been by the door, for that was found 
locked on the inside, and you say it was not 
the window.” 

“ I didn’t say that.” 

“ It comes to the same thing. He could not jump 
fifty feet down to the ground, and he could not jump 
thirty feet up to the roof.” 


74 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Poor Mr. Malvers seems to have vanished into 
air,” said Gertrude. “ There is not another way if 
he couldn’t fly.” 

“ Oh ! ” interrupted Beck sharply, with the cry of 
a man whom a sudden thought has hit hard. 
“ Could any one get me an evening paper, a West- 
minster for choice ? ” 

I thought he had gone off his head. 

“ See here, old man,” I remonstrated, “ you don’t 
expect to find an account of the theft in the news- 
paper! You don’t imagine the thief would put in 
an advertisement ! ” 

While I was prating, Gertrude brought him the 
Westminster. He moved a little away from us, 
turned the pages and searched it eagerly, seemed to 
find what he looked for, and then began to read. I 
watched his face as for a moment it showed some- 
thing like despair, then at last hope kindled in his 
eyes. 

“ It is a desperate chance,” he muttered as he 
crumpled the paper into his pocket, “ but it is our 
only chance.” 

All the latent energy was awake in the man. He 
glanced at the clock, it was half-past seven. 

“ Charlie, can you come with me to Paris ? ” 

“When?” I asked. 

“ Now, this instant. We shall catch the nine 
o’clock train from Charing Cross if we start at 
once.” 

“Why Paris?” I began, but Gertrude cut me 
short in a way sisters have. 

“ Don’t ask such silly questions, Charlie, you will 
go, of course, if he wants you to go.” 


FLIGHT 


75 

Meanwhile Beck was talking to the Secretary for 
Foreign Affairs, who listened as to an oracle. 

“ You can give us credentials for Paris, sir? ” he 
asked. 

The governor nodded, and sat down to write. 

“ Could you wire to the Chief of the Paris Police 
to meet us at the train with a motor and four or five 
armed men. There is no hurry about that, of 
course, the wire will be there long before us.” 

Again the governor nodded and went on wri- 
ting. Something in Beck’s manner, even more than 
his words, suggested the necessity for extreme 
speed. 

A moment afterwards the governor handed him 
two notes, addressed to the English Ambassador 
and Chief of the Police. Beck slipped them into a 
letter case in his breast coat pocket. 

“ Are you ready? ” he asked. 

“ May I know your plans, Beck ? ” asked the gov- 
ernor mildly. Gertrude only looked her curiosity. 

" They are not worth knowing yet, sir, indeed I 
hardly know them myself. We are on a wild goose 
chase, yes, that’s the very word for it, a wild goose 
chase. The moment I have anything to tell I’ll 
wire.” 

I have a curiously distinct picture of the two, 
Gertrude and the governor, standing in the distance 
at the top of the tall flight of steps, when we started. 
I looked back as we sped down the avenue, and I 
saw her wave her hand, and then I saw her draw 
down his face and kiss him. It lightened my heart, 
for I could not stifle the feeling that I was deserting 
him in his sore need, and I felt angry with Beck 


76 YOUNG BECK 

for this madcap expedition into which he rushed 
me. 

The car flew. We interchanged no word as we 
sped in a hurricane of our own making through the 
long sweeps of country road, or whirled on inner 
wheels round sharp curves, with the glare of the 
lamps like a runaway bonfire in front, reckless of 
danger to ourselves and others. We saw the pale 
flare of the lights of London in the sky, and all at 
once we were in the straggling outskirts of the great 
city, the first scouts that villadom sends into the 
country to spy out the weakness of the land. Beck 
took his watch from his pocket. 

“ In good time,” he said, with a sigh of relief, 
“ we may take it easy from this out.” 

Easy meant a good fifteen miles an hour through 
the streets. We got to the station just ten minutes 
before the train started, and sent the car back with 
the chauffeur to say that the first stage of our jour- 
ney was safely through. 

I must have looked like a fool, I know I felt like 
a fool, as I lay back on the cushion watching Beck, 
who was too utterly self-absorbed to notice me. 
Here I was starting for Paris without as much 
as a toothpick in the way of luggage. I had not 
the least notion what I went to do, or how long 
I should be away. Is it any wonder I felt like a 
fool? 

Beck was poring over the last edition of the 
Westminster , which he had secured as the train 
started. 

“ Beck,” I broke out at last, when I could stand 
it no longer, “ what is the meaning of this busi- 


FLIGHT 


77 

ness?” I was on the point of saying tom-foolery 
but I changed the word in time. 

He looked like a man who has been awakened 
suddenly and cannot see for a moment. 

“ My dear fellow,” he said slowly at last, “ I 
badly want to think. Just let me be until we are on 
the boat, and I promise to tell you everything there 
is to tell.” 


CHAPTER VI 


CAPTURE 

We were on board among the first, and took one 
of those foolish cabins on deck. Lucky we did, for 
I was gazing listlessly out of the little window on 
to the lighted quay, when I was brought up with a 
jerk at the sight of one of the Bertram twins, com- 
ing leisurely on board with a heap of luggage in 
his wake. 

Beck grabbed me from the window before he 
could catch sight of my face, and it was not until 
he had gone below, followed by his luggage, that 
either of us spoke. 

“ I expect his alibi duty is over,” Beck said, “ and 
he is off to join his brother. It looks as if we were 
on the right track, anyway, but we must board our 
train at Calais, Charlie, without his seeing us.” 

“ That’s easily managed. We are in light march- 
ing order and can get to cover quickly. But for 
goodness sake what’s it all about? I’m bursting 
with curiosity, and you promised to tell me every- 
thing when we got on board the boat.” 

For answer he took the crumpled copy of the 
Westminster from his pocket and handed it to me. 
I read where he pointed. It was an account of a 
great international display of aeroplanes and diri- 


CAPTURE 


79 


gible balloons the previous day near London. The 
startling events of the morning had driven it clear 
out of my head. I read obediently the long descrip- 
tion of the performance; the report was poetic, 
picturesque, and very wearisome. 

“ I can find nothing to help in this,” I complained. 

“ Kindly read on,” he put his finger at the foot 
of the page. 

“ At this stage the navigable balloon Hohenzol- 
lern, which had showed such docility earlier in the 
day, answering to her rudder like a boat, suddenly 
lost way and fell out of the course. It was ob- 
served that her propeller no longer revolved. Some- 
thing had plainly gone wrong with her engine or 
her steering gear or both, for she was swept like 
a withered leaf down the wind, rising as she drifted 
across the sky until she passed cut of sight of the 
spectators. Great apprehensions are felt for the 
three daring aeronauts she carried on her lonely 
voyage through the heavens.” 

“ Well?” 

“ Read on.” 

“The Missing Hohenzollern 
“ Special T elegram 

“ Exeter, 5 a. m. 

“ A large balloon, supposed to be the missing 
Hohenzollern, was observed at dawn this morning 
very high in the air. She was apparently wholly 
unmanageable, and she was drifting rapidly out to 


8o 


YOUNG BECK 


sea before a strong north-east wind. Her course, 
unless the wind changes, of which there seems to 
be little prospect, must take her right out across the 
Bay of Biscay. The gravest fears are entertained 
for the courageous men whom she is carrying to 
what seems inevitable doom.” 

The next paragraph was headed : — 

“ Good News of the Missing Hohenzollern 
“ La Rochelle, 7 a. m. 

“ A great dirigible balloon, believed to be the 
Hohenzollern, has just passed close to the town at 
an elevation of about a quarter of a mile. She was 
beating against the north-eastern wind in the direc- 
tion of Paris. Her propeller was working splen- 
didly, and she appeared to have little difficulty in 
keeping her course.” 

The next extract was shorter : — 


“ Tours. 

“ A very large dirigible balloon passed here 
early this morning, heading for Paris.” 

“ From our Paris correspondent,” came the next 
item. 

“ Great excitement was created in the city this 
morning by the appearance on the western horizon 
of a small black speck which rapidly developed into 
a huge dirigible balloon, moving at a rapid rate 
towards the city. It was speedily identified as 


CAPTURE 


81 


the Hohenzollern, which so distinguished itself at 
the contest in London yesterday, and was after- 
wards blown out over the Channel. It is plain that 
the skilful and daring aeronauts she carried had 
contrived in some wonderful way to repair the in- 
jury done to her propeller, for it was working per- 
fectly as she approached the city. At first it was 
thought that she would effect a landing on the out- 
skirts, but she held her course straight over Paris, 
a wonderful object in the clear sunlit sky, casting a 
gliding shadow as she passed on the broad expanse 
of upturned faces that watched her from the gar- 
dens of the Tuileries. So close was she that with 
good glasses one could distinguish the features of 
the three men in the boat-shaped car attached by 
aluminum stays and netting to the huge bulk of 
the balloon. She passed right beside the double 
tower of Notre Dame so close that the tower seemed 
almost to graze the silk of her envelope, then mov- 
ing rapidly due east in the direction of Rheims she 
lessened slowly to a mere black speck on the soft 
blue of the sky and vanished.” 

“ Still I don’t see ” I began. 

“ Read on the last,” Beck said ; “ it is the most 
important of all.” 


“ Rheims. 

“ The dirigible balloon, Hohenzollern, came 
down close to the town this afternoon. Her silk 
covering had been torn and she was partially de- 
flated. Workmen have come out from the town. 
It is found that her injuries are slight, and it is 


82 


YOUNG BECK 


expected that the balloon will be fully inflated and 
able to resume her flight early to-morrow.” 

I looked up wonderingly at Beck’s eager face. 

“ But what has all this to do with us ? ” I asked. 

“ Don’t be wilfully dull, old chap, give your wits 
a chance. Surely you must understand Malvers was 
carried off with the papers and probably the other 
Bertram twin in the same car. They let down a 
rope to him on the balcony; you remember it was 
calm early in the night. The disablement of the 
balloon was all humbug; if the propeller had been 
injured they could never have set it right in mid- 
air. But they were making straight for the frontier 
with their plunder when they were disabled in ear- 
nest at Rheims. We must catch that balloon there 
if we can.” 

The thing wtis as plain to me as a pikestaff, as 
most mysteries are when they are explained. I was 
ready to kick myself because I had not seen it at 
once. 

“We can do nothing until we get to Paris,” Beck 
went on, “ what do you say to a game of piquet to 
pass the time? ” 

“ I could not tell one card from another, my 
nerves are dancing a hornpipe. I envy you, Beck; 
how the deuce do you keep so cool? Do you think 
we shall be in time ? ” 

“ I hope so, but worrying won’t help, anyway.” 

The slow minutes dragged themselves along, and 
we crept in the dark into Calais. Beck hurried me 
off at once, and found a carriage near the engine, 
which a handsome “ pour boire ” to the guard se- 


CAPTURE 


83 

cured to ourselves. Money, as they say, “ talks ” 
every language, and is understood all the world 
over. 

“ We are clear of him this time,” said Beck, as 
he settled down comfortably and lit a cigar. “ I 
hope we shall be equally lucky in Paris.” 

Of course I knew without telling whom he was 
so anxious to elude. 

Beck smuggled himself into the corner of the 
carriage and smoked his cigar placidly out to the 
end, then he drew the collar of his coat round his 
ears. Like many young men of strong will power 
it was his privilege to command sleep in the midst 
of excitement. 

I was not so lucky. The thought of the gov- 
ernor’s words came back to me. I don’t care who 
knows it, I hate war. I don’t see the least fun or 
glory in it, only dirty butchery, just the hacking up 
of limbs and the beating out of brains of men who 
have done nothing to deserve it, the breaking up of 
homes, and the horrible misery of women and chil- 
dren. At first I thought chiefly of the ruin this 
business might bring on the governor and the lot of 
us. Now that passed clear out of my mind, and 
the horror of war held me like a nightmare. While 
we rushed on and on through the darkness to the 
monotonous grinding of wheels and clang of pis- 
tons there came before my mind a picture of a 
battle-field all strewn with mangled bodies. I must 
have dropped to sleep, but still saw that battle-field 
stretching as far as the eye could reach through 
which I wandered, covered with blood from head 
to toe, and woke in a cold sweat of horror. I 


YOUNG BECK 


84 

thought the journey would never end. At last when 
the grey light of dawn was stealing through the 
darkness the train slackened speed. We were in 
Paris. 

As we slid slowly along the platform into the 
Gare du Nord, Beck got the door open, and we 
were out while the train was still in motion. We 
skulked off like a brace of thieves to the entrance 
of the station. A big handsome motor waited con- 
spicuous among the string of voitures and taxis, 
and we made for it directly. As we came up the 
driver turned on a small electric light, and examined 
us both closely. 

“ Put that down ! ” cried Beck sharply, and 
handed him the note the governor had written to 
the Chief of the Police. 

While the man was glancing over the note I 
noticed in the dim light a small-sized man, alert- 
looking, and perfectly dressed, who came up quickly 
followed by a huge porter with two bags slung by 
a leather strap over his broad shoulder. The man 
peered about, apparently on the lookout for a good 
voiture or taxi. As he passed close to us I saw 
his face, and instantly turned my back. 

At the same moment I heard the police chauffeur 
say to Beck in perfect English, in which there was 
no trace of foreign accent : 

“ All right, sir, I was told to place the car at your 
disposal.” 

Thereupon Beck and I clambered into the back 
seat. 

“ Your luggage, sir,” said the driver. 

“ We have none. Drive to Rheims as fast as you 


CAPTURE 


S5 

can go, there are many lives at stake. I will give 
you a hundred pounds amongst you if we are in 
time. That’s nothing. Your government will think 
no reward too great.” 

Even at the moment I thought it a good sign 
that the driver answered not a word but gripped 
his wheel and started the car. 

“ Beck,” I whispered, as we slipped smoothly 
along the half-awakened streets, gaining speed as 
we went, “ I saw him at the railway station quite 
close, but I don’t think he saw us.” 

“ Oh, yes, he did, worse luck ! I noticed his eyes 
blink as he recognised you. There could be no 
mistake; it was horribly unlucky.” 

“ But what can he do ? He can’t catch or stop 
us now.” 

“ He can wire, my boy, and he will, don’t you 
make any mistake about it. If those other chaps 
have any sense they will hire a motor the moment 
they get the wire, and skip with the papers across 
the frontier. My hope is that they will want to 
take the balloon, which is the best in the world, 
along with them. They won’t like the notion of 
leaving it behind, that’s our only chance.” 

“ Why not wire yourself to have them de- 
tained ? ” 

“ I don’t like to risk it. One of the lot might 
escape with the papers. Besides I don’t want the 
papers read, so we must be there ourselves at the 
capture. As my governor always says we must 
trust to luck to pull us through. We can do no 
more now until we get to Rheims. By Jove, she is 
racing ! ” 


86 


YOUNG BECK 


She was unmistakably. I never rushed so swiftly 
through space before. My trip from Kirwood Cas- 
tle was a crawl in comparison. The road was per- 
fect, broad, smooth, and straight. It slid, with 
dizzy speed, back under the wheels of the flying car. 
The sparse poplars by the roadside rushed by a tall 
green hedge, the long rows of vines whirled in wild 
circles in the fields on either hand, and the wind 
shrieked its mad protest as we burst through. 

The darkness melted in the pink flush of the 
dawn, and still we sped with undiminished speed. 

For more than two thirds of that frantic drive 
Beck sat silent and quiet, with arms folded; the 
rush of the wind made talk impossible. 

We were three hours or so in full flight, our ears 
stunned with the incessant whirr of the engine, our 
eyes dim and watering from the swift procession of 
road and fence and the blinding rush of the wind, 
when Beck woke up at last. 

He took out his race glasses and stared steadily 
in front of him. I noticed that his gaze was at the 
sky, and I knew he was watching in feverish anxi- 
ety for the escaping balloon. But no sinister speck 
marred in any direction the pure blue of the heav- 
ens. All of a sudden he called out “ Rheims ! ” but 
it was nearly a minute later, when we were more 
than a mile nearer, before I could discover a single 
tower like a streak of darkness against the sky 
above the dim, vapour-like bulk of the great cathe- 
dral. Still we raced on with relentless speed, and 
the town came forward out of the blue haze of the 
horizon to meet us, growing clearer as it came. We 
turned a curve that skirted the town a little to our 


CAPTURE 87 

right, and there with startling suddenness we had 
clear sight of the balloon. 

There was no mistaking the peculiar shape when 
we saw it clear against the sky, the huge cigar of 
inflated silk and the little boat hanging below it 
close to the ground. 

From that instant we had no eyes for the town. 

The balloon was stationary over a high sloping 
ground, about twenty feet in the air, swaying 
slightly in the wind and tugging at the ropes that 
held her. 

As it came rushing out of the distance to meet 
us we could see the framework of the car and the 
men in it; we could see the rope-netting that held 
the balloon in shape; we could see the men busy 
around it. The field skirted the road with no fence 
between. 

Beck leaned forward, spoke to the driver, and 
the car began to slacken its tremendous speed. 

It was plain that the men about the balloon had 
in their turn sighted the motor. We could see them 
lean over the side of the car and cry out to those 
below, and there was a rushing hither and thither 
about the field. Closer and closer we drew, the 
faint sound of shouting came to our ears, as the 
motor swept on until we were right opposite the 
balloon; then it stopped with a jerk that almost 
shot us from our seats. 

Almost before it had stopped Beck was out and 
away across the field, shouting to us as we started 
to follow : 

“ Stay in the car! Watch the balloon! ” 

The men in the field were cutting the tow ropes 


88 


YOUNG BECK 


that held the balloon down, and the men in the car 
yelled to them to hurry. One after another the 
ropes went loose, the balloon heeled a little to one 
side, and then leaped upward as the last tie that 
held it to earth was cut free. 

Already the car was five or six feet from the 
ground when Beck came up with a rush, leaped and 
caught and clung to the netting. While the balloon 
shot up like a rocket we saw the nimble figure, which 
grew momentarily smaller as we looked, climb like 
a squirrel up the network between the aluminum 
stays on to the body of the balloon. Two shots rang 
out, but he made no pause ; like a sailor in the rig- 
ging, as swift and sure, he went up the network 
round the huge curve and disappeared over the top. 

He told me afterwards all that happened. 

“ I saw they were hurrying to get off,” he said, 
“ and I raced across the field. It was my last 
chance and I was only just in time; a second more 
and the whole thing would have been whisked out 
of my reach. 

“ It is a strange sensation, Charlie, seeing the 
field drop away from you through space when you 
are hanging on by the skin of your teeth, but I kept 
tight hold and never looked down. Just as I started 
to climb I heard two shots and my cap was twisted 
sideways on my head. I found the hole of the bullet 
later; the other shot must have gone wide. When 
I got over the bellying curve of the balloon I was 
safe. But it swayed terribly as I climbed, and we 
must have heeled right over if it were not for the 
steadying weight below. When I reached the top 
the silk sank under my weight between the stays, as 


CAPTURE 


89 

a soft pillow sinks under a man’s head, swelling in 
great curves all round me. So I lay securely in the 
hollow as a bird in its nest, opened my pocket-knife 
and drove it through the tough skin of the balloon, 
as though I were stabbing a living thing, and heard 
the hiss of the gas as it rushed out, like life-blood, 
through the rent. 

“ I could see nothing from where I lay but the 
wide vacant dome of the sky above me. I could 
not even tell if the balloon rose or sank till very 
cautiously I crawled to the edge of the hollow, 
which sank under me as I crawled, and holding 
tight to the cordage looked over the verge. Yes, 
we were sinking. The ground far below, with its 
doll’s town to the right, was rising slowly towards 
us. To the left I could see the car, a mouselike 
speck, racing along the narrow ribbon of the road. 
At this minute they must have thrown out ballast, 
for I felt an upward jerk of the balloon. But live 
or die I was resolved to bring it to the ground. So 
again and again I drove my knife in to the hilt. 
The gas hissed all round me, through half a dozen 
rents, and the ground ran up to meet us with a swift 
noiseless rush that frightened me, for I knew we 
were falling fast. The next thing I remember I 
rolled down the collapsing side of the balloon and 
landed safely on my feet.” 

To come back to the motor. When Beck made 
his mad leap, and we saw him swing into the air, 
we thought it was all up with him, and his desperate 
climb over the netting to escape the revolver shots 
made his plight the more perilous. The balloon rose 
rapidly to a height of about two thousand feet, 


9 o 


YOUNG BECK 


drifting before the wind. No effort was made as 
yet to get the propeller in motion, and as the light 
wind carried it on almost parallel with the road our 
car kept pace with its flight. 

After a little we noticed that it was sinking 
slowly, then some bags of ballast were tossed out 
and it rose with a jerk, but after a moment or two 
it came down again, more rapidly than before. 
Again the ballast was thrown out and it fell more 
slowly, but still it fell. 

We left the motor and raced on foot across the 
fields. The balloon was now scarcely a hundred feet 
over our heads, still sinking. It dodged a tall pop- 
lar, swinging the car clear by a yard, and came 
down in an open space. 

The car touched the ground, but before we could 
reach it it went up again, like the hop of a rubber 
ball. Beck slashed great gashes in the covering and 
down again came the balloon right on top of the 
car, which it enveloped in its bellying folds, while 
Beck rolled off the top of the collapsing monster like 
an acrobat. 

We dug our three men, completely cowed, from 
under the balloon, and handcuffed each in turn with- 
out resistance. It was curious to meet again one of 
the Bertram twins, whom I had last seen stretched 
on his own carpet at Cambridge. He was as cool 
and self-possessed as ever, but Malvers was yellow 
and whimpering with fright. The other, a big- 
boned fellow, was plainly an assistant. I could have 
struck the hound, Malvers, across the face, re- 
membering the agony his treachery had given my 
father. 


CAPTURE 


9i 

“ Where are the papers, you cur ? ” I asked, 
holding in my rage. 

He touched his breast with his manacled hands, 
and I drew out a large envelope full of papers 
from his pocket. 

“That’s all?” I asked. 

“ You cannot trust him,” interposed Beck 
briskly, “ we must search the lot, and have every 
scrap of paper every one of them has about him, 
that’s the only safe way.” 

We found more papers on that liar Malvers, con- 
cealed in the lining of his coat, but when we came 
to search the Bertram twin he protested vigorously. 

“ I assure you, gentlemen,” he said, “ I have no 
other papers connected with this case. My friend, 
Mr. Malvers, insisted on retaining possession of 
them all until his reward was paid in full. These 
documents relate to quite another matter and are 
highly confidential.” 

“ All’s fish that comes to our net,” said Beck. 
“ Lord Stanton may find these documents inter- 
esting. You owe him some atonement, you know, 
some interest on the loan you took of his docu- 
ments.” 

Having secured every scrap of paper, we moved 
with our prisoners towards our motor which was 
waiting on the road. 

“ What are you going to do with these chaps. 
Beck ? ” I said. 

“ Let them go. Take their weapons and let 
them go. They won’t have too good a time when 
they go back without the papers and without the 
famous balloon.” 


92 


YOUNG BECK 


The chief of the Paris police nodded assent. 
When we had collected three serviceable revolvers 
from their pockets we took off their handcuffs and 
turned them loose. 

Then we drove into Rheims. We were hungry 
and thirsty and draggled and exceedingly light- 
hearted. We wanted both food and drink badly, 
but our first move was to the telegraph station. 

“ This do ? ” asked Beck, and read out : “ ‘ Com- 
pletely successful. All documents recovered.’ ” 

“ Capital ! ” I answered, and leaning over I saw 
the telegram was directed to “ Lady Gertrude 
Kirwood, Kirwood Castle, England.” 

I thought he winced and blushed a little as his 
eyes met mine, but he answered sedately : 

“ It was she who engaged me, you know. I must 
report to my employer.” 


CHAPTER VII 


A PANIC IN PARLIAMENT 

“ You don’t like Starkey Colthurst ? ” I asked 
Beck, as we walked down to the House together. 
I think I have said already somewhere that Starkey 
Colthurst was the governor’s Under-Secretary for 
Foreign Affairs. 

“ I didn’t at first, I do now,” Beck answered. 
“ There was something in his face that vaguely 
repelled me. Then I found out what it was. He’s 
very like our old friend, Maxwell, who was sent 
down at Cambridge, and has since developed into 
a bogus company promoter.” 

“You’re right,” I said, “there is a great like- 
ness, though I never noticed it till you spoke. But 
make your mind easy, old man, Colthurst is not 
Maxwell. I have seen the real Simon Pure several 
times lately; he haunts the House of Commons of 
late, and from his appearance he seems to be doing 
pretty well for himself.” 

“ I have noticed him, too. He is not really like 
Colthurst, only just the outline of his face, so I 
have conquered my prejudice.” 

I mention this conversation just because it took 
place a few days before the tremendous political 
convulsion in which Starkey Colthurst had the 


94 


YOUNG BECK 


principal part. The main incidents of this exciting 
business are, more or less, in every one’s recollec- 
tion. They are not at all likely to be forgotten. 
I only want to make clear for the first time the part 
that Beck played in this sensational drama. 

There was a German scare on at the time, indeed 
German scares had grown to be a common epi- 
demic in London. The governor and Colthurst, 
who were engaged (there is no harm in telling it 
now) in an amicable and delicate arrangement with 
Germany, were pestered with irritating questions in 
the House of Commons. 

The climax came when the Opposition put down 
a vote of censure : “ That this House is of the 
opinion that His Majesty’s government does not 
sufficiently realise the necessity of an adequate 
navy for the protection of our coasts,” and a day 
was granted as a matter of course for its discus- 
sion. 

In terms the motion was moderate enough, but 
the newspapers had been rampant for weeks, and 
now the orators had their chance. All the Imperial 
Jingoes in turn had a fling at His Majesty’s gov- 
ernment, and especially at the Secretary of State 
for Foreign Affairs. In language that was brutally 
plain Germany was pointed to as the country whose 
aggression was to be dreaded. “ Our cowardly 
ministers,” perorated one inspired speaker, “ are 
licking the feet of the German Frankenstein that 
is arming to destroy us, instead of holding our 
navy ready to take the monster by the throat.” 

Of course the government had a steady and sub- 
stantial majority and nothing in the nature of a 


A PANIC IN PARLIAMENT 


95 

defeat, or even a close division was dreamed of for 
a moment. But the wild and whirling words made 
some sensation in the House and a great deal in 
the country amongst the multitudes stricken with 
the ague of war panic. 

It was arranged that Starkey Colthurst was to 
wind up the debate on the part of the government, 
and it was confidently expected, at least among the 
ministerialists, that he would give the Jingoes their 
quietus. 

Just a word or two about Colthurst before I 
come to what happened that night. He was a self- 
made man, a handsome well set-up fellow about 
thirty, who wore his hair short and his beard long; 
a bit stand-offish, as self-made men often are. Shy- 
ness so often looks like pride. No one ever ques- 
tioned his ability or force of character, but no one 
quite knew how he managed to push his way into 
Parliament, which is as hard of entrance for the 
poor man as heaven is for the rich. 

His very first speech showed him a man to be 
reckoned with. It stirred up a languid House to 
the knowledge that a great debater had arisen, aye, 
and something more than a debater, a man with 
the passionate earnestness which stirs while it con- 
vinces. 

In five years Colthurst, whose performances had 
outstripped his promise, had climbed up to his 
present position, and belief was prevalent he would 
go to the top. 

He was still unmarried, and lived by himself in 
a small house in Chelsea, which was kept by an 
old housekeeper, who had come up with him from 


96 YOUNG BECK 

the country and, so it was said, had nursed him 
from a child. 

Beck and I had been in the House, off and on, 
during the greater part of the debate, and we were 
lounging about the lobby after dinner, about half- 
past ten or so, when Colthurst passed in, as I 
thought, looking very queer. There was a dour, 
determined look on his strong face that boded ill 
for somebody. So absorbed was he that he passed 
us quite close without the slightest sign of recog- 
nition, though he knew us both quite well. 

As he walked up the floor he came right between 
the Speaker and the man who was addressing the 
Chair, an unpardonable breach of parliamentary 
etiquette, which invariably invokes an angry and 
universal shout of “ Order, order ! ” from every 
quarter of the House. I’ve seen men stoop and 
scuttle like rabbits at this intimidating cry, but 
Colthurst stalked slowly on to his place, apparently 
quite unconscious of the storm he had awakened. 

We followed him into the House. I had been a 
member now for nearly two years, and Beck had 
a pass for one of the seats under the gallery, which 
was only separated by the back of the bench from 
the members. 

Colthurst took his accustomed place on the min- 
isterial bench close to the Speaker’s chair. He 
spoke to none of his colleagues, but sat leaning 
back with his hat drawn down over his forehead 
and his beard stuck out. 

A moment later the leader of the Opposition 
began one of those adroit and brilliant speeches for 
which he was famous, full of sharp hits at the gov- 


A PANIC IN PARLIAMENT 


97 

eminent, humorous and playful for the most part 
but warming at the close into a kind of hysterical 
passion, at which his followers cheered uproari- 
ously. 

As he sat down, Colthurst arose and instantly a 
hush fell upon the House. The occasion was too 
serious for applause and there was something omi- 
nous in the man’s voice and manner which com- 
pelled attention. 

He began slowly in the dead silence. There was 
a tone in his voice that I had never heard before, 
a tone, as it seemed to me, of intense excite- 
ment. The opening sentences were in his best 
style, a style which he had made wholly his 
own, pre-eminently simple, earnest, compelling at- 
tention. 

“ I am come here to-night,” he went on slowly, 
“ at any cost to myself or to my party, to discharge 
a duty as solemn and momentous as has ever fallen 
to the lot of a member of this House.” He paused 
amid breathless silence, no one could guess what 
was to come next. “ I am here,” he continued, “ as 
the official spokesman of this government and in 
a special manner of the foreign office, for which 
I share the responsibility with Lord Stanton. My 
duty as a party man is to vindicate the govern- 
ment and office, and to defend their policy and 
action. I will do nothing of the kind, I can attempt 
nothing of the kind.” 

Surprise held the House silent for a moment, 
then the Opposition broke into a tumultuous cheer. 
Colthurst raised his hand and the cheering lapsed 
into instant silence. 


YOUNG BECK 


98 

“ I have a higher duty to discharge. As a true 
born son of this fair and happy land it is my duty 
to set her freedom and happiness above all other 
considerations. Personal friendship and party loy- 
alty are nothing in the balance. There is an official 
tradition that forbids me reveal the secrets of the 
office to which I belong. In ordinary circum- 
stances that tradition should be implicitly observed. 
But, sir, these are no ordinary circumstances. 
Official concealment must not be maintained to the 
ruin of our country. Having failed to move the 
government from the disgraceful and disastrous 
course they have chosen, I am compelled to appeal 
to the only tribune that can restrain them — the 
power and patriotism of this enlightened assembly, 
the supreme authority in the state. I do not value 
any tradition at a pin’s point that would constrain 
me to a disgraceful silence. I speak no longer as 
a Secretary of Foreign Affairs but as a private 
member of this House, but I speak in the pleni- 
tude of the knowledge I have acquired. I pro- 
claim the known truth when I declare that this 
government has shamefully truckled to Germany, 
and lowered the honour of England in the dust. 
It has abandoned its ship-building programme at 
the dictation of a foreign power, and its servility 
has been awarded by insult and menace. Even now 
we are threatened with an invasion which our 
starved and depleted navy is powerless to repel. 
Sir, the government has richly deserved the cen- 
sure with which it is proposed to visit it. Only 
a strong and resolute administration, which will 
cast its evil traditions to the winds, can save the 


A PANIC IN PARLIAMENT 


99 

country. I will vote for the motion before the 
House.” 

A moment’s silence as he sat down and then 
broke out a hurricane of applause. The indictment 
was unexpected, dramatic, conclusive. The well- 
known character of Colthurst for courage and hon- 
esty carried conviction. Already the government 
was condemned. The ministers sat in dumb amaze- 
ment, that might be mistaken for guilt, no mem- 
ber rose to continue the debate. 

When after a long interval the Speaker, a stately 
figure in bee-hive wig and flowing robes, arose to 
put the question from the chair, no man there 
doubted what the answer would be. 

In the momentary silence I heard Beck’s voice 
urgent in my ear. 

“ Speak, man, speak ! It doesn’t matter what 
you say, keep the debate going.” 

The Speaker’s solemn voice had already begun. 
“ The question is — ” when I leaped to my feet. 

“ Lord Kirwood,” the Speaker cried. As he 
dropped back into his seat I was in possession of 
the House. 

I hardly know what I said. Beck told me later 
on I made a right good speech, but I don’t believe 
him. I think the House bore with me for a while 
as my father’s son, while I indignantly, though I 
fear a little incoherently, denied the charges of 
Colthurst. It was natural, of course, that I should 
stand up for my father, but the damning evidence 
of Colthurst, who had nothing to gain and every- 
thing to lose by revealing the truth, was conclusive. 

Still I stumbled on from incoherency to inco- 


IOO 


YOUNG BECK 


herency until the House grew impatient of my 
eloquence and the rising cry of “ ’Vide, ’vide, 
’vide ! ” cut my sentences in two. While I was 
still struggling against the storm I heard Beck’s 
voice behind me again : “ You may sit down, Char- 
lie, the debate is safe, the Irish are on to it.” 

Then as I collapsed into my seat, crushing my 
hat like a concertina, I heard the Speaker cry, “ Mr. 
Mulreddy,” and a soothing melodious brogue took 
up the tale. 

“ Mr. Speaker, sir, I am amazed at the intem- 
perate impetuosity of the gentlemen around me ” 

— (“’Vide! ’vide!”) — “There, sir, it is again. 
Is this the calm, imperturbable Saxon whom we 
poor excitable Irish are so often invited to ad- 
mire ? ” — ( “ ’Vide ! ’vide ! ” ) — “ Easy does it, 
we will divide later on, but first, Mr. Speaker, I 
have a few words to say, and with the leave of the 
House or without it I mean to say them right out 
to the end. On those benches, Mr. Speaker, we 
have been often accused of disloyalty, but for my- 
self I am a great admirer of the British Empire ” 

— (“Hear, hear!”) — “in its proper place. I 
want to treat the British Empire, which seems in 
trouble to-night, with proper respect. You have 
often been good enough to give a night sitting to 
pass a coercion act for a poor little bit of a place 
like Ireland; we are going to return the compli- 
ment. We are going to give the British Empire 
a night sitting all to itself, and we won’t go home 
’til morning, ’til daylight doth appear ! ” 

The House roared and howled, but all to no 
purpose. The same genial smile illuminated Mr. 


A PANIC IN PARLIAMENT ioi 

Mulreddy’s face, the same mellifluous brogue filled 
up the pauses in the storm. 

I noticed that Colthurst was getting uneasy on 
the front bench as the debate laboured on. 

“ Follow him, Charlie, he is going away,” Beck 
whispered; “ follow him.” 

“What is the use?” I retorted snappishly, “the 
mischief is done. If he were to recant every word 
he has just spoken the House would swear he had 
been got at.” 

“ For goodness’ sake don’t argue but follow him. 
It is all-important to stop him at any cost. Get 
him to assault you, get him arrested, but be careful, 
old chap, for he is sure to be armed.” 

I can never resist Beck when he talks to me like 
that. 

“ Right,” I said, “ are you coming too? ” for he 
had got up from his seat. 

“ No, I have other work to do. I am beginning 
to see my way out of this. If you can get your man 
to the police court on any pretence it’s all safe. So 
long ! ” 

Colthurst slipped out through the members’ door, 
and walked rapidly across Palace Yard. To my 
surprise he did not take a car or a taxi, but turned 
to the right down the Thames embankment, while 
I followed close at his heels. He slackened his pace 
as he came to the corner of the National Liberal 
Club, and turned up Northumberland Avenue. 
There was an extra big policeman standing under 
a lamp-post — my opportunity was come. 

I stepped up behind Colthurst and laid my hand 
on his shoulder. He turned on me with a snarl of 


102 


YOUNG BECK 


an angry dog ; there was murder in his eyes as they 
met mine. I saw his right hand dive into the 
pocket of his overcoat and, remembering Beck’s 
warning, I gripped his wrists and grappled with 
him, shouting, “Help! Police! Police!” 

The big policeman jumped round and took a 
hand at once. Colthurst in his rage kicked him on 
the shins while he tried hard to break loose from 
my grip on his wrist. 

“ I charge the man with assault, constable,” I 
panted. “ He tried to shoot me with a revolver, 
see ! ” I wrenched Colthurst’s hand from his 
pocket still gripping the revolver. 

“ Right y’are, sir,” said the constable, with a 
rich Irish brogue: the first word always tells with 
the police. “ Easy there, my fine fellow,” to the 
unfortunate Colthurst, who struggled in the grasp 
of a Hercules. “ Easy there, or maybe I’d have 
to hurt you. It’s the best of your play to come 
quietly.” He wrenched the revolver from the pris- 
oner’s hand as he spoke, and snapped the hand 
cuffs on his wrists. 

“ I’ll pay for the taxi, constable,” V said, “ I’m 
in a hurry.” 

Colthurst had his wits back by the time we had 
reached Westminster Police Station. He was as 
cool as a cucumber while the charge was taken 
down — “ assault and resisting the police in the 
discharge of their duty.” 

“What have you to say to this?” asked the 
Inspector. 

“ Very little,” he replied, smiling. “ Your con- 
stable is acting under a very natural mistake. In- 


A PANIC IN PARLIAMENT 103 

deed I have to apologise for resisting him in 
what he believed to be the discharge of his duty. 
I am Mr. Starkey Colthurst, M. P., Under-Sec- 
retary for Foreign Affairs. If you will kindly put 
your hand in my pocket you will find my card- 
case. This person wantonly assaulted me ; I 
was defending myself when the constable came 
up.” 

The inspector was plainly impressed by the card- 
case and the perfect manner of the man. But my 
gigantic Irish friend, whose shins doubtless still 
smarted, came to the rescue. He looked closely 
into the face of Colthurst, who was dishevelled a 
bit by his struggle. Then, to my amazement, he 
laid his hand on the flowing beard and jerked it 
suddenly from his chin. “ Mr. Colthurst don’t 
wear a false beard, I’m thinking,” was his effective 
comment. 

In the beardless face, distorted with rage, I rec- 
ognised Maxwell, the expelled of Cambridge, the 
fraudulent stockbroker, and saw that he had recog- 
nised me and felt that the game was up. 

“ A trap,” he said shortly, “ and I’m caught. I 
suppose I have to thank Beck for this, Kirwood. 

You’re too d d a fool to have thought of it off 

your own bat.” 

“ Yes,” I answered, “ Beck.” 

In my turn I produced my card and handed it to 
the inspector, who had listened bewildered to the 
dialogue. 

“ This is a serious case,” I said, “ more serious 
than you imagine. Take good care of your pris- 
oner,” 


104 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Never fear, sir,” he said, “ he will be here 
when he’s called for ; ” and I saw my big Irish 
friend hustle the unfortunate Maxwell into a cell 
before I took my departure. 

Pulling my coat up about my ears, for there was 
a sting of cold in the night air, I walked back to 
the House. I did not go in but looked into the 
Chamber through the glass door. The storm still 
raged as tumultuously as ever but it beat in vain 
on the Irish ranks. Man after man they opposed 
themselves, unruffled to its fury. 

A friend, who passed out, told me that the Prime 
Minister had briefly interposed in the debate to 
deny the statement of Colthurst, and the denial was 
met with insulting laughter from all sides of the 
House. The Speaker had twice refused the clo- 
sure, but there was an uneasy feeling that the next 
time it would be granted. 

Too nervous to go in, I loitered like an uneasy 
spirit about the lobby, which was buzzing with 
excitement. I was longing for a sight of Beck; 
I felt in my bones something would happen when 
he arrived. 

Presently I was joined by the governor, who had 
listened to the debate from the Peers’ Gallery. His 
face was drawn and very pale; he seemed like a 
man in great physical pain and weak from suffer- 
ing. When I took him away to a seat at the side 
of the lobby I noticed that he tottered as he sat 
down. 

“ This is a terrible business, Charlie,” he said in 
a whisper. “ I hardly need tell you there is not a 
word of truth in Colthurst’s speech. The man is 


A PANIC IN PARLIAMENT 105 

an unspeakable liar and a traitor, and I trusted 
him.” 

“ It wasn’t Colthurst, sir,” I blurted out. 

“Who wasn’t Colthurst?” he asked sharply. I 
fancy for the moment he must have thought I had 
gone mad. 

“ The man that made the speech,” I answered. 

“ Nonsense, nonsense,” he cried pettishly, “ I 
know Colthurst as well as I know myself.” 

Very shortly I told him my adventure. “ He is 
under lock and key in the Westminster Police Sta- 
tion,” I wound up. 

The governor listened with intense eagerness, 
the ghastly look passed from his face. 

“ Beck sent you after him, you say ? Where is 
he now ? ” 

“ That I can’t tell, sir. He asked me to wait here 
for him. He has some plan in his head, I only hope 
he won’t be late.” 

“ What are they doing in the House, Charlie ? ” 
the governor asked anxiously; “go and see. It’s 
ruin if they divide in their present temper.” 

I went to the door and held it open for a mo- 
ment. The Irish members still held the breach. 
Through the half open door I heard in a rich 
brogue : “ The more haste the less speed. Those 
gentlemen opposite are wasting the time of the 
House with their foolish interruptions. They can’t 
begin to build an adequate navy to-night, anyhow. 
The sooner they allow me to finish my speech the 
sooner I’ll sit down.” 

“ The Irish are still at it, sir,” I reported to the 
governor. “ They deserve Home Rule for this 


106 YOUNG BECK 

night’s work, if there is any gratitude in Eng- 
land.” 

Just then there was a sudden silence in the lobby, 
the silence of an excitement that kills all sound. 
Some instinct told me what it meant. I jumped to 
my feet and stepped out to where I could see what 
was passing. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE UNDERSTUDY 

Up the long passage, between the railings, past 
the guarding police, came two men on whom all 
eyes were fixed. They walked slowly and one 
leaned on the other. The spectators for the most 
part were held dumb with excitement, but I could 
hear more than one whisper : “ That’s he, Starkey 
Colthurst, the pale man with the black beard, that’s 
the man who smashed the government.” 

My father trembled as a condemned man trem- 
bles on the scaffold when the unexpected reprieve 
arrives, and rushed forward to grip Starkey Col- 
thurst by the hand and hurry him to the House. 

“ Easy, easy,” said Beck, “ give him time, sir. 
He is terribly shaken, only a hero would come at 
all in his condition. Get him to a private room and 
let him rest a little; a glass or two of champagne 
would do no harm. Meanwhile, Charlie, you 
might have a word with the Speaker to prevent 
accidents.” 

“ You forget nothing, Beck,” cried the governor, 
“ nothing! ” 

While the governor and Beck took Colthurst 
round through the corridor to the Prime Minis- 


io8 


YOUNG BECK 


ter’s own room, of which the Foreign Secretary 
had the use when he came to the House, I walked 
right up the floor to the Speaker’s chair. He 
leaned down to me over the arm of his great chair 
as, kneeling on the steps, I whispered as shortly 
and clearly as I could what had happened. “ The 
impostor is in a police cell and the real Colthurst 
is with my father now, sir,” I said, “ in the Prime 
Minister’s room. I fancy he will be ready to speak 
in a moment or two.” 

It is pleasant to remember that the Speaker 
never for a moment doubted my word. He only 
nodded to show he understood, and I heard him 
mutter under his breath : “ Thank God I refused 
the closure.” 

The storm still raged as I crept back to my seat 
behind the ministerial bench and whispered to the 
Prime Minister: “ My father would like to see you 
in your room, sir, he has good news.” 

There was a howl of derision from the infuriated 
Jingoes when the Prime Minister slipped out of 
the House behind the Speaker’s chair. “ Run 
away ! Run away ! ” they yelled, and one raucous 
voice above the tumult shouted : “ The policy of 
scuttle ! ” 

I smiled to think of what was coming. 

Another burst of ironical cheers greeted the 
Prime Minister when he returned, but it died away 
to the silence of utter bewilderment when Starkey 
Colthurst was seen walking close behind him. One 
or two young bloods at the back kept on yelling 
for a second or two after the rest, and broke off 
with a suddenness that was comical when they in 


THE UNDERSTUDY 


109 


turn caught sight of Colthurst. He was seen 
speaking to his colleagues on either side of him, 
and a furious cry of “ Squared ! Squared ! Col- 
thurst is got at ! ” was raised by the Jingoes. 

The soothing voice of the Irish member who 
was speaking at the time was heard in the lulls of 
the tumult. 

“ How you Englishmen love one another ! I will 
not trespass any longer on this British love feast. 
I fear, Mr. Speaker, that I have too long occupied 
the attention of the House. Yes, I see that is so; 
there is a touching unanimity in that cheer for 
which I am most grateful. In conclusion, Mr. 
Speaker, I have only to express my thanks for the 
silence, attention, and perfect courtesy with which 
I have been heard.” 

He sat down and the leader of the Opposition 
rose. 

“ I move,” he said in solemn tones, “ that the 
question be now put ” 

To the amazement of the whole House Starkey 
Colthurst rose at the same moment. 

“ Order, order,” cried the Speaker, “ Mr. Star- 
key Colthurst.” 

At this the angry outcry again broke loose. A 
thunder of voices all yelling together : “ Spoke ! 
Spoke!” 

The Speaker rose slowly and the tumult sub- 
sided. “ Order, order,” he said again, and there 
was a dominant ring in that resonant voice, “ Mr. 
Starkey Colthurst.” 

Then as he began to speak it was seen that he 
was very pale and seemed to struggle with great 


no 


YOUNG BECK 


physical exhaustion. At the first words silence fell 
on the excited assembly, and men craned their 
heads to hear. 

“ Mr. Speaker,” he said, “ I have not spoken 
before in this debate. The House, the government, 
and myself have been the victims of an audacious 
conspiracy. The double who has personated me 
here to-night, who has presumed to speak from my 
place in my name, is at present a prisoner in West- 
minster Police Station. If any honourable member 
doubts me he can have the evidence of his own eyes 
at the rising of the House. 

“ I will not dwell, Mr. Speaker, on the daring 
device by which I was detained from the House 
while an impostor masqueraded in my place. On 
the personal aspect of the question I have no desire 
to dwell. I am concerned only with the appalling 
danger to which the country has been exposed. 
But this much I must say, # were it not for the in- 
sight and energy of one man, this disastrous con- 
spiracy must have succeeded.” 

“Name! Name!” was shouted from all sides. 

“ He has forbidden me to give his name. For 
the work’s sake he did the work, and never was 
better work done for England. 

“ I grieve, Mr. Speaker, that any man in this 
House should have deemed me capable of the 
speech of sham patriotism and gross treachery 
which was delivered in my name. But I grieve 
far more that the speech should have been received 
with exultation by so many honourable members. 
The object of the conspiracy, which so nearly suc- 
ceeded, was the ruin of the government and its 


THE UNDERSTUDY 


hi 


expulsion from power. War would have been the 
inevitable result of its success. 

“ The government, Mr. Speaker, stands for 
peace. There is a party in this House that is bent 
on war.” 

At this the Jingoes incautiously cheered. 

“ For war at any price,” Colthurst repeated with 
scorn in his voice, “ even at the cost of fraud, vio- 
lence and national dishonour. I hear no cheers 
now, sir, yet I have faithfully described the price 
they are prepared to pay. Has this war party, I 
wonder, ever considered the infamy of the move- 
ment in which it is engaged? Has it realised what 
war means? Its horrors have been hidden by 
romantic phrases and spurious sentiment. ‘ The 
noble profession of arms, the pride, pomp and 
pageantry of noble war.’ But stripped naked of its 
glittering trappings it is nothing but murder or- 
ganised, the savage science of slaughter. 

“ Sir, I am a man of peace. To me war is not 
noble but vile, not manly but brutal. I reverence 
the courage that soothes and saves, I loathe the 
courage that hurts and slays. In this courage the 
most savage beasts, the lion, the tiger, the bulldog 
surpass the bravest man. War, Mr. Speaker, is 
the curse of civilisation, the reproach of humanity. 
The highest achievement of human science is to 
promote efficiency in human slaughter. The wealth 
and industry that should secure the happiness of 
the race is lavishly expended to promote misery and 
death. 

“ Sir, I have a momentous announcement to 
make to-night on behalf of His Majesty’s govern- 


1 1 2 


YOUNG BECK 


ment, who through good report and evil have 
striven for peace, and whose striving has not been 
in vain. Four nations hold the peace of the world 
in the hollow of their hands; those four nations 
declare peace must prevail. It is my privilege to 
announce to the House to-night that Germany, 
France, England, and the United States have en- 
tered into a solemn compact of gradual disarma- 
ment. They have pledged themselves against fur- 
ther increase of army and navy ; they have pledged 
themselves to establish a court of international 
arbitration, in whose constitution all countries will 
have a voice, by whose decisions all countries must 
abide, and whose awards they will, if need be, join 
their powers to enforce. 

“ Sir, His Majesty’s government does not think 
it unreasonable that from this league of peace a new 
and happier era in the world’s history may begin. 
The crushing taxes which great armaments impose 
may be remitted. The manhood of nations may be 
withdrawn from the barren and brutal pursuit of 
war to the productive and beneficent arts of peace, 
and the ghastly horrors of the battle-field may no 
longer be the reproach of man’s inhumanity to 
man.” 

The earnestness of the man carried him through 
to the end. His voice rang clear and true. He 
spoke as an inspired prophet of the old days with 
a conviction that compelled the faith of his hearers. 
But as the last words were spoken the sustaining 
powers suddenly failed. He was seen to totter, 
throw out his hands wildly, and fall back on the 
treasury bench, like a man shot through the heart. 


THE UNDERSTUDY 


ii3 

But his work was done. For a moment the 
House was held silent by the compelling earnest- 
ness of his words. Then the spell that held them 
broke, and the cheers rang out again and again 
repeated, flung backwards and forwards, across the 
House in great waves of sound. 

The Speaker rose, but it was full five minutes 
before he could make his voice heard. “ The ques- 
tion is,” he read, “ that His Majesty’s government 
does not sufficiently realise the necessity of an ade- 
quate navy for the protection of our coasts. As 
many as are of that opinion will say ‘ aye.’ ” The 
Speaker paused impressively, there was dead silence. 
In all that crowded House no single voice was 
raised to support the motion. “ The contrary 
‘ no.’ ” He was answered by a deafening thunder 
of noes. The motion was unanimously rejected. 

Meanwhile Starkey Colthurst lay in the Prime 
Minister’s room in a dead faint, unconscious of this 
splendid triumph. He was as one dead for nearly 
an hour, but the superb vitality of the man tri- 
umphed. As he came slowly back to consciousness 
he feebly whispered : “ What has happened ? ” It 
seemed to put new life in him when he heard. 

“ I’m all right now,” he said, “ I can get home.” 

“ You shall come home with me,” the governor 
insisted. “ My motor is in the yard.” 

“ Get him to bed as soon as you can,” the doctor 
advised. “ The poison is still in his blood ; he must 
sleep its effects away.” 

The excitement of the House had already over- 
flowed into Palace Yard. In the cold grey light 
of the early dawn a crowd had gathered, and 


YOUNG BECK 


114 

Colthurst was wildly cheered as he came out lean- 
ing on the governor and myself. 

With Beck’s help I got him comfortably into the 
car, which crawled cautiously through the cheering 
crowd out of the Yard, and went humming up 
Whitehall Avenue, gathering speed as it went. 

To our fevered faces the cold night air was in- 
finitely refreshing as we sped through the silent 
empty streets with the houses fast asleep on either 
hand. 

We found Gerty waiting to welcome us in the 
hall. Beck had telephoned from the House of our 
victory and she was eager for full news. I have 
always said that Gerty was a splendid girl, the best 
that is, though she is not my style of beauty. I 
must confess that she was good-looking this morn- 
ing, dressed all in plain brown with soft lace at her 
neck, and her red gold hair coiled in a long thick 
plait like a crown. It was like her, too, that she 
asked no questions until Colthurst and the gov- 
ernor were got away comfortably to bed. 

“ I will give you two just twenty minutes for a 
bath,” she said, “ then you will find me and break- 
fast ready in the dining-room.” 

I thought I made good time but Beck was before 
me, and Gerty was pouring out coffee for him when 
I came in. The room was a picture of comfort, a 
big fire burned in the grate, always a pleasant thing 
in the early morning at any season of the year. 

“ Gerty, you are a brick,” I said, and helped 
myself freely to grilled ham and devilled kidneys. 

“ A brother’s compliment,” she returned good- 
humouredly. “ But mind you have got to talk as 


THE UNDERSTUDY 


”5 

well as eat, Charlie. I want full, true and particular 
accounts of last night’s wonderful adventures.” 

“ You must have it,” I said, and I told her the 
story I have told here, with intervals for refresh- 
ment. When I came to the part where Beck des- 
patched me in pursuit of Maxwell she turned on 
him sharply. 

“ You risked his life,” she said. “ How could 
you do it? ” 

“ Oh, I knew Charlie was able to look after him- 
self all right, especially as he had warning. No 
danger, no glory, and he did splendidly.” 

Gerty gave me a look that I liked. 

“ Yes, he did splendidly,” she murmured. 

“ I was only a private soldier that obeyed or- 
ders,” I said. “ Now we want the general’s account 
of the campaign. I am as much in the dark as you 
are, Gerty, about that. How did you know, old 
chap, that Colthurst was Maxwell ? ” 

“ I guessed almost at first. Did you notice when 
he came in he walked straight between the man 
that was talking and the Speaker’s chair? It struck 
me as strange for a man as accustomed to the 
House as Colthurst. Before he was speaking five 
minutes I was sure it was Maxwell.” 

“ But how ? ” 

“ You must remember that trick Maxwell had 
of touching his hair back from his forehead. Prob- 
ably he got it when he was a small boy with long 
curls and it clung to him. Colthurst’s double did 
precisely the same thing in the same way.” 

“ But how did you find the real Colthurst ? How 
did you get him up in time ? ” 


ii6 


YOUNG BECK 


“ The simplest thing in the world. I found him 
in his own house, in bed, asleep or unconscious, in 
charge of a doctor whom I promptly kicked into 
the street. The old housekeeper, who opened the 
door, told me he had been brought home uncon- 
scious in a four-wheeler about nine o’clock by a 
very pleasant gentleman, who had fetched a doctor 
and gone away. The doctor declared there was 
no danger but the patient must on no account be 
disturbed. 

“ When I dismissed the enemy’s doctor I called 
in a friend whom I could trust, one of the great 
guns of Harley Street, whom I was lucky enough 
to find at home when I telephoned. He found, as 
I suspected, that poor Colthurst had been drugged 
with a very powerful narcotic. The doctor could 
not be sure what precisely, but it was no common 
drug. 

“ He at once administered a strong restorative, 
and while Colthurst was still half-asleep we lifted 
him out of bed and walked him up and down the 
room until he came to himself. The story I had 
to tell roused him as no stimulant could. We 
helped him to get his clothes on, and while he was 
dressing he told me shortly how the thing hap- 
pened. 

“ He was dining in the French restaurant, I for- 
get the name, — you know the place, Charlie, they 
give you a jolly good dinner for a half crown, — 
when a well-dressed gentleman of about his own 
age came in and, with an apology, sat down at the 
same table. They chatted on several subjects, and 
he found the stranger wonderfully pleasant and 


THE UNDERSTUDY 


117 

well informed. The chap must have contrived 
somehow, while they talked, to drop the narcotic 
into Colthurst’s wine, for when they left the table 
Colthurst had a singing in his head and his knee 
joints felt loose. He was not alarmed for he had 
often had the same kind of thing before — though 
not so bad — when he had worked too hard. But 
it grew much worse when he got out into the fresh 
air, and he was glad to take his companion’s arm 
to prevent himself falling in the street. The man 
called for a four-wheeler, and Colthurst had just 
power to tell the cabby ‘ House of Commons ’ be- 
fore he fell back unconscious on the seat. But the 
other chap, whom the cabby would regard as the 
sober man of the party, must have changed the 
address to Chelsea. 

“ He picked Colthurst’s pocket of card-case and 
speech on his way home in the cab, terrified the 
housekeeper into helplessness, and left the patient 
in charge of a doctor of his own choosing, while 
he drove off to personate him in the House of 
Commons. 

“ After Colthurst had dressed he nearly fainted 
again, and the doctor swore it would be risking his 
life to go down to the House, but he insisted on it, 
and I backed him up and we carried the doctor 
with us in a taxi, protesting the whole way. You 
know the rest. I never heard anything finer than 
his speech. The man is a hero.” 

Gerty had listened with parted lips and height- 
ened colour to the story. 

“ I know who was the real hero of this victory,” 
she said suddenly. I don’t think she was quite 


n8 


YOUNG BECK 


conscious of what she was saying for she blushed 
furiously when she had spoken. 

“ Beck is,” I chimed in promptly. “ Only for 
him the whole thing would have ended in disaster, 
and he would not even allow his name to be men- 
tioned.” 

“Have you no ambition, Mr. Beck?” asked 
Gerty. 

“ Oh, yes, I have,” he answered gravely. “ A 
very exalted and audacious ambition which I may 
tell you about some day.” 


CHAPTER IX 


FAIRY LILIAN 

No one likes to talk or write about his past love 
affairs, and I am quite conscious I don’t cut a very 
brilliant figure in this particular affair. But, after 
all, this is Beck’s story, and not mine; and Beck, 
at any rate, does not come badly out of it. 

When this thing happened I had been for nearly 
a year acting as my father’s private secretary. Par- 
liament was sitting at the time, and there was a 
deal of trouble in the near East. Every afternoon 
Starkey Colthurst was asked a dozen questions in 
the House of Commons to which my father, as his 
chief, had to supply the answers. As may be well 
imagined, my nose was kept close to the grindstone. 

Coming home late from the House one night, a 
bit fagged, I dare say, I found Gertrude sitting up 
for me with a particularly nice supper. She lec- 
tured me while I ate and drank on the value of 
health, and finally insisted that I should go down 
to Brighton next morning for a breath of fresh air. 

Now Gertrude is the original of Rider Haggard’s 
famous heroine, “ She, who must be obeyed.” In 
Yankee phrase, “ what she says, goes.” Of course 
I had to promise before she kissed me good night. 

Just at the door she turned round to say: “ You 


120 


YOUNG BECK 


might ask your friend, Mr. Beck, to go down with 
you, and you could bring him back here to dinner 
if he has no better engagement.” 

I wrote that night to Beck, who was staying with 
his people, and had a wire next morning to say 
that he could not go to Brighton, but he would 
meet me at Victoria Station in the afternoon and 
come back to dinner. 

As a result I had to go down alone. Now Brigh- 
ton is a place I hate — flat, fashionable and un- 
profitable. But a promise is a promise, and be- 
sides, I was feeling a bit hipped, and thought the 
blow on the pier would do me good. The place 
has one advantage if it has no other, it is easy to 
get to, and better still, easy to get away from. 

I wandered about the pier during the day, trying 
to kill time and feeling unutterably bored. Only 
one little thing happened worth remembering. As 
I was coming through the hall of the Grand Hotel 
after lunch I saw the sweetest girl I ever set eyes 
on, talking to that old reprobate, Lord Blackwathe. 
It chanced she looked up as I passed, and her eyes, 
blue as the summer sky, met mine for a moment, 
and I could not get her out of my head for the 
rest of the day. 

I had just entered a first-class smoker in the 
return train, feeling quite set-up as Gerty promised 
by the sea breeze and idleness, when this same girl 
passed my door and entered the carriage right in 
front. It was horribly tantalising, and for a mo- 
ment I was tempted to throw away the excellent 
cigar which I had lit and get out of my own carriage 
into hers. I could cheerfully have murdered a chap, 


FAIRY LILIAN 


1 2 1 


with a reddish beard, who, as the train was just 
starting, did what I dared not do, step as a matter 
of course into the same carriage as Miss Blue Eyes. 

If it was not exactly love at first sight I felt it 
was precious near it. My heart was beating at 
least ten strokes faster per minute after I saw her 
than before, and I was determined, with Beck’s 
assistance when I reached Victoria, to find out who 
she was and where she lived. But I was destined 
to be introduced to her long before that in a very 
lively fashion indeed. 

The train was only a few miles out of Brighton 
when I heard in the next carriage a shrill agonising 
scream, broken off suddenly in the middle as if 
the screamer’s mouth had been stopped. I craned 
my head as far as I could out of the open window. 
There was a crash of glass next door, and the win- 
dow went in splinters. Then I saw a girl’s arm 
in a light blue sleeve thrust through the opening, 
a man’s hand came out after it, grasped the slim 
wrist roughly, and forced the arm back. 

I suppose I was mad at the moment, at any rate 
I did a mad thing. Flinging open the door, I 
stepped out on the footboard, which swayed under 
my feet like the deck of a boat in a gale. With 
body squeezed tight to the carriage I crept on in 
the teeth of the wind to the broken window. The 
girl was alone in the compartment, with her back 
to me ; the door on the other side swung wide open ; 
the man must have jumped out. I called to her, 
and she turned with a cry of surprise, and showed 
the face of a frightened child, tear-stained and pale. 
She was a plucky little lady all the same. Her face 


122 


YOUNG BECK 


brightened when she saw me, and she stretched out 
her hand, a little dimpled hand like a baby’s, to help 
me into the carriage. But the moment I was safe 
in she went off in a dead faint in my arms. It was 
a trying situation for a man already three-quarters 
in love. I was strongly tempted to kiss the sweet 
little face so close to my own, but I resisted like 
a Spartan, and laid her gently down on the cush- 
ions. A glance showed me there had been a dread- 
ful struggle. The pretty blue dress was torn in 
several places, her hat was off, and her hair a tangle 
of curls. Tier hand-bag lay on the floor of the 
carriage, open and empty, with the contents littered 
about. 

My brave little beauty came to in a moment, and 
found her tongue as she opened her eyes. 

“ He jumped out when he saw you coming,” she 
said. “ I’m afraid he is killed.” 

“ Serve him jolly well right if he is,” I answered 
brutally. “ The unmitigated scoundrel ! I hope he 
hasn’t hurt you.” 

Her dress was sadly torn at the neck and bosom. 
She caught my glance, her hands went up to her 
breast, and she blushed rose red, while she drew 
the tatters together and pinned them with a brooch. 

“ I’m not in the least hurt,” she answered, still 
blushing very prettily. “ Oh, how can I ever thank 
you?” 

I would have risked a hundred lives for the look 
she gave me with those innocent blue eyes. 

“ All’s well that ends well,” I began cheerily, 
when her eyes lit on the open hand-bag and its scat- 
tered contents. 


FAIRY LILIAN 


123 

“ Oh, they are not gone, they cannot be gone ! ” 
she cried, and down she went on her knees to rum- 
mage in the bag. 

Plainly her search was in vain, and her little 
moan of despair went straight to my heart. 

“ Can I be of any use to you ? ” I asked shyly, 
but she went on searching, without heeding me, in 
a very frenzy of despair. 

“ They are gone, they are gone ! ” she cried at 
last. “ What shall I do? I shall be utterly dis- 
graced.” 

“ Won’t you let me try to help? ” I began again. 

“ Oh, he has stolen them,” she said. “ That’s 
what he came for, to steal them.” 

“ Very likely,” I answered soothingly, “ but 
what has he stolen ? ” 

“ My jewel case,” she answered. “ I don’t know 
what I shall do.” 

It jarred on me a bit to see her in such utter 
despair about a few trinkets. Still, though I had 
no idea at the time what the loss meant to her, I 
was very cut up to see her in tears. 

“ Are they very valuable ? ” I asked, scarcely 
knowing what I said. 

“ I was told they were worth three thousand 
pounds,” she sobbed, “ but it is not the jewels or 

the money I care about, at least not ” She 

hesitated for a moment, and I guessed she had a 
secret on the point of escaping. 

But I did not think it fair to surprise her in that 
way so I cut in quickly. “ It does not matter in 
the very least,” I said. “ Make your mind easy, 
they are sure to be found. The thief will be crip- 


124 


YOUNG BECK 


pled, if he isn’t killed by his fall. He cannot pos- 
sibly get away with the jewels.” 

Her eyes beamed with joy behind her tears. 
“ Oh, thanks, thanks,” she cried gratefully, “ how 
good you are to me.” 

“ Who wouldn’t be good to you if he had the 
chance?” I thought, but I only said: “You are 
sure to have them safe back to-morrow or the day 
after at the latest. I will see the station-master the 
moment we get in, and ask him to wire.” 

“ That will do splendidly. I cannot thank you 

enough, Mr. ” she hesitated for a second. 

“ You don’t mind telling me your name, — I’m 
Lilian Saltern.” 

“ My name is Kirwood.” 

“Not Charlie Kirwood?” she cried. “Oh, I 
beg your pardon, it just slipped out, I have heard 
you spoken about so often.” 

I wanted to ask her to call me Charlie always, 
but I did not dare just yet. I found her as easy 
to get on with as a child. She immediately took it 
for granted that I was right about the jewel case, 
though I was by no means so sure myself, and grew 
as bright as sunshine when the cloud has gone by, 
as gay as a bird when the frost is over. Every 
word, every look I found her more fascinating. 
Just such another girl, I thought, must have in- 
spired Tennyson’s love poem to “ Airy Fairy Lil- 
ian,” whose “ lightning laughters dimple the baby- 
roses in her cheeks.” She chatted to me like a 
school-girl to a school-girl, about the places she had 
been and the people she had met. Her talk was full 
of sly humour, punctuated with rippling laughter. 


FAIRY LILIAN 


125 

She radiated vitality. But now and again a word 
fell from her, which showed her wholly unsophis- 
ticated in the ways of the world. 

For me it was the time of my life. I hated the 
swift rush of the train, and wished the journey 
could have lasted for ever. 

“ Is there any one to meet you at the station ? ” 
she asked. 

This at once brought Beck to my mind. “ The 
very man we want,” I said. « “ He is three-quarters 
a detective. You’ve heard of Paul Beck? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I have heard of him before,” she said, 
“ and of his father and mother as well.” She had 
heard of every one, this wonderful girl that looked 
like a child. “ Please, don’t tell him a word about 
this, let it be a secret between us two.” 

“ I cannot help telling, I’m afraid. He is to meet 
me on the platform, and will come with us to the 
station-master. Besides, I have no secrets from 
Beck, and he is the one man in London to help us.” 

“ You know best,” she said, giving in at once. 
“ Do just as you like.” 

Then we talked about many things, grave and 
gay, but there was not a word more about the 
robbery until the scattered houses merged into 
streets, and we drew into the noise and bustle of 
Victoria Station. 

She had gathered her goods and chattels together 
into the rifled hand-bag, and almost before the 
train stopped we were out on the platform. I 
caught sight of Beck some way off, and made for 
him through the throng as quickly as I could, and 
almost at the same instant he saw me. I did not 


126 


YOUNG BECK 


at all like the look of frank admiration he gave my 
companion as he joined us. I was in the humour 
to be jealous with any one that looked at her, and 
Beck I always thought a wonderfully good-looking 
chap. Very shortly I told him what had happened, 
Lilian (I called her Lilian to myself even then), 
putting in just the right word in the right time. 
Beck listened without a sound until I did at the 
end what I should have done at first, introduced 
Miss Lilian Saltern. 

“Not the daughter of Lady Saltern?” he said. 

She bowed and smiled that ravishing smile, of 
which I coveted the monopoly. 

“ You know my mother, then ? ” 

“ A little,” he answered, “ and I will be delighted 
to do what I can for her daughter. Charlie, you 
take Miss Saltern on to the station-master, or if 
you prefer it, wait here for me. I want to have a 
look at the carriage, and I’ll join you in a mo- 
ment.” 

I preferred to wait. I was in no hurry to part 
with my charge, and Beck was back from his inspec- 
tion quite as soon as I wanted him. I noticed a 
wet smear of blood across the back of his right 
hand. 

“How did you manage to cut yourself?” I 
asked. 

“ It’s of no consequence,” he answered hastily, 
and wrapped his handkerchief round his hand in 
order, as I guessed, to hide the sight of blood from 
Lilian. 

The station-master was full of excitement and 
self-importance, and even more sanguine than my- 


FAIRY LILIAN 


127 

self about the capture of the thief and the recovery 
of the jewels. 

“ At the rate the train went,” he insisted, “ es- 
cape is impossible. The man is smashed up. I’ll 
wire at once and have the line searched. The right- 
hand side, you say, about five or six miles out of 
Brighton? Make your mind quite easy, Miss Sal- 
tern,” he concluded, in a fatherly fashion, as 
he shut up his note-book, “ you will have your 
jewels safe back to-morrow evening at the la- 
test.” 

While Beck was having a few final words with 
the station-master I managed to get Lilian to my- 
self. 

“ May I see you home ? ” I asked persuasively. 

She gave a little cry of dismay. 

“ Gracious, I quite forgot my cousin, Aldred 
Harvey, was to meet me. He’ll fancy Fve got lost. 
Do let us hunt him up, please.” 

“ First tell me if I may come to see you.” 

“ Of course you may if you want to. Oh, there 
he is. Aldred ! ” 

A tall young fellow, who had been looking round 
him on the platform, raised his hat and came up 
quickly. 

“ Aldred, I want to introduce you to Lord Kir- 
wood.” 

“ Very glad to meet you,” murmured Aldred. 

He was a languid young man, particularly well- 
dressed, with a light dust-coat over his arm. Un- 
commonly good-looking, too, I was reluctantly 
compelled to acknowledge, clean shaven, clear fea- 
tured, with the figure of an athlete, but his hand- 


128 YOUNG BECK 

some face wore no other expression than languid 
self-complacency. 

Beck came up and was introduced in turn, and 
the two fell into chat about horses. Beck had ap- 
parently some information to communicate about 
the Derby, in which the languid Aldred was inter- 
ested, but a drawling “ yes ” or “ no ” was his sole 
contribution to the conversation. I was surprised 
that Beck should bother himself about him. 

We walked down the platform together, and saw 
Lilian to her taxi. Aldred seemed to make a spe- 
ciality of awkwardness. As he entered the taxi 
beside his cousin he dropped first her bag and then 
his own dust-coat, and when Beck picked them up 
for him he just managed to drawl, “ Thanks aw- 
fully.” The fellow seemed to make quite a com- 
pliment of seeing his cousin home. I saw a picture 
in an old “ Punch ” the other day in which a 
“ young barbarian ” at a dance says to a very pretty 
girl : “ Sorry I can’t give you a dance to-night, but 
if you are going to Perkins next Saturday I may 
manage to fit you in.” 

That was precisely the attitude of Aldred Harvey 
going home alone with the prettiest girl in London. 
Is it any wonder that I wanted to kick him? 


CHAPTER X 


TWO ARE COMPANY 

We talked over the adventure that evening at 
dinner, Gertrude, Beck and myself, for the gov- 
ernor was away in the country. Beck joined 
warmly in my praise of Lilian, and Gertrude as- 
sented coldly enough. She admitted that the girl 
“ was pretty after a fashion,” but declared the 
mother, Lady Saltern, was an'“ impossible person.” 

After dinner, when Gertrude was gone, Beck 
insisted that she herself was better looking than 
Lilian. I can’t think how a chap can be so blind. 

My heart was hammering my ribs two days later 
when I walked up the high stone steps of Lady 
Saltern’s dingy house on Bedford Square. 

Lady Saltern was out, the footman said — one 
point in the game. He could not say if Miss Lilian 
were at home, he would take my card and see. 

I was not a minute in the great gaunt drawing- 
room when Lilian herself, looking more lovely and 
fairy-like than ever, in some soft white stuff that 
I think the ladies call tulle, came quickly into the 
room. 

“ Oh, it’s you,” she said, giving me both hands 
and tolerating the warm pressure of mine. “ I 
fancied you would come ” — as if there could be 


1 3° 


YOUNG BECK 


any doubt on the subject — “ I cannot talk in this 
great barrack of a room, I have a little place of 
my very own, this way ! ” 

The nest was worthy of the bird. A charming 
boudoir hung with a pale pink paper, with colour 
reproductions of Watteau on the panels, gay lords 
and ladies in quaint costume, dancing or love- 
making. A small tray in the centre of the room, 
laid with tea things for two, hinted that I was 
expected. 

Lilian I found more fascinating than ever. There 
was a brighter light in her eyes, a rosier tint in her 
cheeks. Indeed, her gaiety was almost feverish. 
She prattled delightfully on a thousand topics, but 
she was shy of any allusion to the robbery or the 
jewels. They had not been found, there were no 
traces of the thief. So much she told me and no 
more. 

“ But of course he must be caught soon,” she 
insisted, “ and I don’t want to think any more 
about it till he is caught.” 

It was only by a good deal of coaxing that I got 
from her the written report of the railway company, 
which she had received the night before. 

The line had been searched on either side by the 
police, no trace had been found of the thief, no 
mark of his mad leap from the train, no tidings of 
the jewels. It may be that I was mistaken, but I 
fancied I found between the lines in the report a 
faintly suggested doubt of the whole story, which 
insisted strongly on the extraordinary fact that a 
man should leap from the train at full speed with- 
out being killed or disabled. The thief, at any rate, 


“ TWO ARE COMPANY” 131 

had escaped so far, and there was no good reason 
why he should not get clear away. 

It made me sad to see the poor little girl still 
buoyed up with false hope, for which I myself was 
responsible, and I endeavoured to hint a doubt. 

“ No, no, you mustn’t croak,” she protested. 
“ Take your tea, Lord Kirwood. A little more 
cream ? I like you ever so much better in a cheerful 
humour. You told me the thief was sure to be 
caught, and you must not go back on your word.” 

“ I believed at the time he was sure to be caught,” 
I said. 

“ Well, your belief is good enough for me.” 

“ But I’m not so sure now. You see I thought 
he would be smashed up by the fall. As he wasn’t 
caught at once I’m afraid there is no certainty of 
catching him at all.” 

Her eyes opened wide, and the colour faded out 
of her cheeks. 

“ Don’t frighten me, Lord Kirwood, please don’t 
frighten me. I must get the jewels back, I tell you 
I must.” 

More than ever I was convinced that there was 
some secret behind this anxiety, and now I was 
determined to find it out if I could. 

“ But if you don’t get them? ” 

“ I will, I must, I tell you. If I don’t, oh, I don’t 
know what is to become of me ! ” 

She had overstrained her self-control. Suddenly 
she gave way utterly, flung herself on a couch and 
burst into an agony of tears. I was so put out I 
hardly knew what to do. Instinctively I caught her 
up in my arms and petted and comforted her. It 


YOUNG BECK 


132 

was not love I felt at the moment, it was intense 
pity, the pity I might feel for a hurt child. 

“ Tell me what it is all about,” I begged. “ I 
know it is something more than the mere loss of 
the jewels. I may be able to help you. I will, if 
I can.” 

“ It is too horrible, too shameful, you would 
never speak to me again if I told you.” 

“ You are mistaken in that, anyway,” I said 
laughingly. “ Try me.” 

Then gradually the whole story came out between 
her sobs. 

It seems her mother, who ought to have known 
better, had sent her down to a house party at the 
Brabasons, the smartest of the smart set, using the 
word in the sense in which it is used in the States. 
The very first night she had been lured into bridge 
gambling. I could picture to myself the poor, in- 
nocent, little white lamb among that pack of greedy 
wolves. 

“ Before I began,” she said, “ I asked what the 
stakes were, and when I was told five shillings I 
was quite satisfied. We used to play half a crown 
a hundred at home, and I thought that five shillings 
once in a way would not hurt me. 

“ I held wretched cards from the first. We lost 
a rubber of three hundred and five points, and I 
took out my purse to pay. ‘ How much ? ’ I asked 
old Lord Blackwathe, who was keeping the score 
for the other side. ‘ Only seventy-five pounds fif- 
teen/ he said with a grin. I nearly fainted. ‘ Oh, 
no/ I managed to gasp out, ‘ it can’t be as much as 
that/ ‘ Well, that’s what I make it/ he replied. 


“ TWO ARE COMPANY ” 


133 

‘ Three hundred and three at five shilling points, 
what do you say, Handkock?’ 'That’s O. K./ 
said my partner, and he drew a cheque for that 
amount. 

“ I had only sixty pounds pocket money and no 
bank account. Mother is not at all rich, you know. 
I was so stunned that I did not know what to think 
or do. I took out my purse and began fumbling 
with my money, knowing all the time that I had 
not enough to pay. Then I caught Lord Black- 
wathe looking at me in a curious sort of way that 
made me shiver. 

“ * My dear Miss Saltern,’ he said, ‘ please put up 
that pretty little purse of yours. Your I. O. U. is 
quite good enough for me.’ 

“ * I have .sixty pounds here,’ I stammered, ‘ I’ll 
give you my I. O. U. for the balance.’ 

“ ' Nonsense, my dear child,’ he said, quite pleas- 
antly, * you’ll want your money for other things. 
I feel it an honour to be your banker. Just put your 
initials to that and it will be all right. Very likely 
you will win it back next rubber.’ 

“ He had torn off a scrap of paper from a page 
of a novel and had written on it I. O. U. seventy- 
five pounds fifteen. It seemed such a trifle that it 
did not frighten me so much. I wrote my initials 
under the figure and passed it back to him. 

“ I meant to stop playing and write home for the 
money, honestly I did. I knew mother would make 
it out for me. But somehow I was forced to go 
on with the game; they all seemed to expect it as 
a matter of course. That night, or rather that 
morning, when we broke up at three o’clock Lord 


134 


YOUNG BECK 


Blackwathe had I. O. U.’s of mine for three hun- 
dred and odd pounds. He was quite nice about it. 
4 You had an awful run of luck/ he said, ‘ but it is 
bound to change. I hope to give you those scraps 
of paper to burn to-morrow night. I would give 
them to you now if you asked me nicely/ He 
looked at me in the queerest way so I just said 
good night and ran. I hardly slept at all, and when 
I did sleep I had the most horrible dreams. One 
I remember was that Lord Blackwathe was a blood- 
hound and was going to tear me to pieces. He has 
big slobbering lips, you know, just like a blood- 
hound, and small cruel eyes. 

“ All day I was tormented by the thought that I 
should go home and get the money, but somehow I 
put it off until it was too late. I was longing to win 
back what I had lost so I could not resist the temp- 
tation of playing again. That night I won. I had 
a hundred pounds to the good at one time if I could 
have only stopped then, but of course I had to go 
on playing. At the end I was almost clear. I made 
quite sure of winning the next night, and I swore 
to myself when I did I would make some excuse to 
go straight home. But my luck was awful the next 
night, and when we got up from the table Lord 
Blackwathe had my I. O. U/s for more than five 
hundred pounds. After that I completely lost my 
head, I must have been quite mad, I do believe. I 
played recklessly, winning sometimes, but on the 
whole losing steadily. 

“ When the party broke up at the end of a fort- 
night I owed Lord Blackwathe fifteen hundred and 
seventy-four pounds. Just before I left I met him, 


“ TWO ARE COMPANY” 


i35 

and he only laughed when I told him I did not know 
how I could repay him. ‘ We’ll find a way between 
us, my dear,’ he said. ‘ Pay me when you like and 
how you like.’ ” 

“The hound!” I muttered under my breath. 
Lilian did not hear. 

“ It was that that put it into my head,” she went 
on. 

“ Put what into your head ? ” 

“The jewels. When he said ‘ how you like’ I 
was sure that was what he must have intended. 
The pearls are a kind of heirloom in our family, 
they were left to me by my godmother, and I had 
also a beautiful diamond necklace which my father 
had bought at a great bargain in India the year 
before he died. I had heard the two had been val- 
ued at three thousand pounds, but I was quite will- 
ing to give them both to be rid of Lord Blackwathe. 
I don’t know how or why I was horribly afraid 
of him. So I wrote him a little note to Brighton.” 

“ You wrote to Lord Blackwathe? ” 

“ Only just a few lines to say that if he would 
meet me at any place I would wish to name I would 
pay my debt.” 

I groaned at the thought of it. I was full of 
fierce rage against the old reprobate, and I could 
have broken his lordship’s bald head with pleasure. 
But my rage was mixed with wonder and pity for 
this poor innocent child, who could write such a 
letter to such a man. 

She was watching me with fear in her eyes. 

“ Did I do something awful ? ” she whispered 
under her breath, and I just managed to stammer 


YOUNG BECK 


136 

out, “ Oh, not at all, it was most natural under the 
circumstances. What did his lordship say?” 

“ I went down to Brighton to meet him at the 
Grand Hotel. We met in the hall, and after we had 
talked there for a few minutes ” 

“ I remember I saw you talking to him in the 
hall, about three or half-past three,” I said. 

“ That was the time I saw you come in. Oh, Lord 
Kirwood, it was lucky you came down to Brighton, 
I’m sure that man in the train meant to murder 
me.” 

It was a very transparent attempt to get away 
from Lord Blackwathe. Plainly she did not want 
to tell me any more about him but I was inexorable. 

“ What did Lord Blackwathe say? ” 

She blushed and fidgeted with the silk tassels of 
the cushion before she answered. 

“ Oh, he took me to his private sitting-room to 
talk things over, as he said. At first he was very 
kind and courteous to me though he would not take 
the jewels. He seemed surprised that I offered 
them. 

“ ‘ I don’t take diamonds from pretty girls, my 
dear,’ he said, ‘ I give them. There is no hurry 
about that little debt of yours until you find some 
other way to pay it without parting with your gew- 
gaws.’ 

“ When I was going out of the room he called 
me back and there was something in his voice that 
I didn’t like at all. He came glose up to me before 
he spoke again, * What do you say to payment by 
instalments, Lily? I’ll throw off five hundred for 
a kiss,’ and he tried to put his arm round my waist. 


“TWO ARE COMPANY 


“ Oh, I was horribly frightened but I managed to 
slip by him to the door. My heart beat so hard 
that I thought I would have fainted when I got out. 
I felt as if some one had struck me.” 

My rage was greater than hers for I knew what 

it meant and she didn’t. “ Damn ” I began 

and pulled myself together for she was looking at 
me wonderingly and I did not want her to know 
what an escape she had had. “ Please go on,” I 
said, when I had my voice under control. 

“ Luckily there was no one in the hall when I 
came out or they must have noticed that I was 
trembling all over and could hardly stand. When 
at last I got into the street I did not know which 
way to turn. Then all at once the thought came 
to me that I might sell my jewels and pay him. 
The first jeweller’s shop I found I went into. The 
owner, a nice old man with white hair, was ever 
so kind. He admired the jewels immensely and 
brought them to the light to look at them through 
a magnifying glass. I have wondered since if the 
thief was watching from the street at the time. I 
was nearly a quarter of an hour in the shop alto- 
gether; it seemed to me the old man wanted badly 
to buy them. At last he put them hastily back into 
the case. 

“ ‘ I cannot buy these, Miss Saltern,’ he said. 
‘ First because I have not ready money enough, and 
you say you must be paid at once. Second, you will 
forgive me saying it, I have not the pleasure of 
knowing you personally. Of course I take your 
word for it but it might make a difference. If you 
go to any respectable jeweller in London who 


YOUNG BECK 


138 

knows you he will give you about two thousand 
pounds for them. They are worth a bit more ! ’ 

“ You know the rest of my story. I was coming 
back with the jewels to London, when I was at- 
tacked and you saved me. Have I been horribly 
wicked, Lord Kirwood ? ” 

She looked at me wistfully like a child caught 
in some naughty escapade. A pitiable little figure 
huddled amid the cushions on the couch with ruf- 
fled hair and cheeks feverishly red. 

My one thought was how I could best help her. 

“Oh yes,” I said, “just as wicked as a bird 
caught in a trap that hurts itself against the wires. 
The thing is how to get you out of the trap. Miss 
Saltern, will you do me the honour of letting me 
be your banker? I can send you the money to pay 
Lord Blackwathe to-morrow.” 

She was on her feet in a moment, and turned to 
me with her hands held out and a light in her eyes 
that made my heart beat foolishly. I took her con- 
sent for granted; her first word showed me my 
mistake. 

“No!” she said, with a dignity I had not ex- 
pected, her slim figure held very straight and her 
head high. There was no mistaking the meaning 
of that “ no.” “ I can’t and I won’t borrow money 
from you. Please don’t ask me again, for my 
answer must be always the same. Don’t think 
I’m not grateful for I am, but I’d sooner die than 
take money from you.” 

“ It would be no trouble for me,” I began, but 
she cut me short at once. 

“ Don’t speak to me of it again. All will come 


“TWO ARE COMPANY ” 


i39 

right when the jewels are found, and they must be 
found soon. Oh, you can’t think what a comfort it 
is to be able to tell my troubles to some one, to 
have some one to sympathise with me. I thought 
I would go mad puzzling over it by myself, but 
you will spoil everything if you offer to lend me 
money again. For pity’s sake let us talk of some- 
thing else, for this trouble has never been out of 
my mind for a moment for weeks.” 

She was right. I had no claim to lend her money 
yet, though I hoped I soon might, for if it was not 
love I felt at the moment it was something very like 
it. Still I could not tell her so on such short notice. 
It would sound like an abuse of the confidence she 
had given me. I could afford to wait a bit, nothing 
was likely to happen in a hurry. 

“ Just as you please,” I said. “ I won’t say an- 
other word on the subject till you give me leave.” 

“ While I have been worrying you with my 
woes,” she answered gaily, “ I have forgotten your 
tea. Will you touch the bell just there beside you.” 

It really did seem as if by telling her troubles 
she had banished them. No one would have 
guessed from her talk that she had a care in the 
world. When I left an hour later it seemed only 
five minutes, and I was more in love with her than 
ever. 

“ Mind,” I said, as we clasped hands at parting, 
“ it’s a bargain that you tell me at once if there is 
a hint of trouble from Lord Blackwathe.” 

“ And you are to get your clever friend, Mr. 
Beck, to help you to hunt up my jewels.” 

“ I may call again soon? ” I pleaded. 


140 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Certainly, you will be always welcome.” 

“ I will try my luck the day after to-morrow at 
this hour, if I may.” 

The very next visit I paid I asked her to be my 
wife. I made up my mind that I wouldn’t and I 
did. The temptation of eyes and voice was irre- 
sistible. 

I was refused point blank. 

“ No, you don’t mean it. It is not love you feel 
for me but pity. You are too generous. You 
have done so much for me you feel bound to do 
more. Be content to be my friend, the best friend 
ever girl had.” 

But with those eyes looking into mine I could 
not be content. I was not to be denied. I made hot 
love to her. I caught her hand and held it, I pro- 
tested, I whispered, I coaxed, I drew her close to 
me until at last with downcast eye and flushing 
cheek she faltered out a confession of her love. 

Then my passion wholly mastered me. I caught 
her in my arms and pressed her to my breast. 
Again and again those sweet lips were raised obe- 
diently to my own. The memory of that rapturous 
moment thrills me even now. 

My people at home were not delighted with my 
engagement when I claimed congratulations. The 
governor was deucedly cold and even snappy on the 
subject. 

“ You are your own master, Charlie,” he said, 
u and can choose your own wife, but I don’t pre- 
tend to be particularly pleased with your choice.” 

“ But you don’t know her, sir,” I protested. 

“ I know the mother, my boy, an uncommonly 


“ TWO ARE COMPANY 


bad lot, and the father had no great reputation out 
in India. But as you say the girl herself may be 
all right.” 

“ May be all right ! ” This was a way to speak 
of the sweetest girl in the whole world. But of 
course I knew the governor should love her when 
he met her, and I meant that he should meet her 
very soon. 

Gertrude was still more uncompromising, indeed 
I strongly suspect that it was she who prejudiced 
the governor against Lilian. 

“ All men are fools where women are concerned ; 
you are a bigger fool than most, Charlie. You 
fancy it’s her people I object to, but I don’t care 
twopence about her people, it’s herself I’m thinking 
about. Yes, Eve seen her; I made it my business 
to see her. She is just a pantomime fairy with 
golden hair and blue eyes and a sweet figure. But 
she must be a clever little fairy to catch you the 
way she did.” 

I was so angry that I turned my back on her. 
“ You will be sorry for this, Gerty,” I snapped out. 

“ Very sorry, dear,” she agreed placidly, “ if you 
ever go and make that girl my sister.” 

Only Beck stood to me like a man. He praised 
Lilian boldly, said she was one of the most fasci- 
nating girls he had ever seen, and made the gov- 
ernor growl and Gertrude snap. He busied him- 
self, too, about the lost jewels and even carried the 
imperturbable Aldred Harvey down to Brighton to 
help in the search. 

Meanwhile I lived in Paradise. I found Lilian 
more and more fascinating every day I saw her, 


142 


YOUNG BECK 


though she was very shy and shamefaced, and 
stinted her kisses abominably. 

As an interesting comment on my sister’s sly 
hints and innuendoes Lilian steadily refused, even 
yet, to let me pay off Lord Blackwathe’s debt. 
“ The jewellery will be found,” she insisted. “ I 
would hate my debts to be paid by your money. 
Don’t grudge me that one little bit of pride, dear.” 

Indeed she wanted me at first to keep our engage- 
ment secret. “ It is so sudden,” she urged, “ you 
may regret it. If you want your freedom be sure 
I will not complain.” She would not take the en- 
gagement ring I offered her, a nice diamond and 
sapphire affair, but chose a paltry twopenny half- 
penny little pearl and turquoise one instead. 

The days went by and still there were no tidings 
of the missing jewels. I had lost all hope, and 
again and again I urged Lilian to let me pay off 
Lord Blackwathe and be done with it. I loathed 
the thought that she should be indebted to him. 

“ What will he think or say of me,” she pleaded, 
“ when he gets your cheque for my debt? ” 

I was stumped at this. The same thought had 
troubled myself, but I had not fancied it would 
occur to her. 

“ What does it matter what he thinks or says? ” 
I protested. “ Besides he need know nothing about 
it. I will give you the money and you can send 
him your own cheque.” 

At last I coaxed her to consent. 

“ Will you spoil me like this when we are mar- 
ried ? ” she asked. 

“ I will do my best, darling, and soon, I hope.” 


“ TWO ARE COMPANY ” 143 

Then before she could escape I caught and kissed 
her. 

We were to meet next day to arrange about the 
money, but that evening the governor had an 
urgent mission for me to Paris which he said 
would take a week at least. Gertrude was de- 
lighted, I could see, while Beck, who was staying 
with us at the time, was most sympathetic. I was 
strongly tempted to rebel and refuse till Beck over- 
persuaded me. 

“ A row just now,” he urged, “ would be un- 
pleasant all round, particularly for the girl. It’s 
not worth a row, a week won’t be long passing.” 

I did not agree to that, but all the same there 
was sense in what he said about a row, so I told 
the governor I would be ready to start in the morn- 
ing. That night I wrote and posted a long letter 
to Lilian, telling her what had happened and beg- 
ging her to forgive me. I gave her my address 
in Paris and implored a line in reply. 

Virtue was its own reward. Next morning the 
governor told me in the kindest way that he did 
not want me to go after all. Gerty, too, was aw- 
fully nice about it, and she can be nice when she 
likes. “ If I have been snappy to you lately, Char- 
lie,” she said, “ I’m sorry. I did not mean to vex 
you.” 

Beck congratulated me on having taken his 
advice. “ I was sure,” he said, “ it would turn out 
for the best.” I caught a look between himself and 
Gerty, which I did not quite understand. It seemed 
like a conspiracy of kindness. 

Never in my life was I in better spirits than 


144 


YOUNG BECK 


when I started out to call on Lilian, with a perfect 
rosebud in my button-hole, which I meant for her 
bosom. My joy had a damper when I heard she 
was gone to the country. She had taken one trunk, 
her maid told me, and had said she was gone away 
for a week but had left no address. Lady Saltern 
could tell me nothing more. Those two lived their 
lives apart, and she knew little of her daughter’s 
doings. 

Returning home I found Beck in the hall ap- 
parently expecting me. 

“ Been to see Lilian? ” he asked. 

“ How do you know? ” 

“ The old proverb about eggs and shells. The 
red rosebud told me; you don’t usually sport a 
button-hole. Found her out? ” 

“ That’s an odd way of putting it,” I said, laugh- 
ing in spite of myself. “ She is gone away for a 
week. I wish you could tell me where she is gone 
to.” 

“ I can,” he answered, to my extreme surprise. 
“ I thought in case the Paris expedition fell 
through you might like to know so I found out 
for you. Don’t ask me how for I won’t tell you.” 

He mentioned a delightful little place about 
thirty or forty miles up the river, which I knew 
very well indeed. A pretty, quiet hotel, much in 
request for unorthodox honeymoons by people who 
don’t care to go boldly on the Continent. 

“ I assume,” Beck went on, “ you will start at 
once and give her a pleasant surprise. May I go 
with you? I promise,” he added hastily, when he 
saw me hesitate, “ I promise not to be in the way.” 


“ TWO ARE COMPANY ” 


i45 

We got down a little after two o’clock. It was 
a glorious afternoon in early summer and the coun- 
try was green with recent rain. I was as light- 
hearted as a bird at the thought of Lilian’s surprise 
and delight when she saw me. The inn, too, looked 
its best, with its windows and peaked gables smoth- 
ered with monthly roses, and a lawn, sprinkled 
with daisies, sloping down to the river that swept 
merrily by with the sunlight on the waters. 

An ideal spot it seemed for lovers’ meetings, and 
my disappointment was the more bitter when I 
was told that Miss Saltern was not staying at the 
place. “ Never heard the name at all,” said the 
man at the desk. All the beauty and light of the 
scene seemed suddenly quenched at once. 

I turned reproachfully to Beck, who was in no 
way abashed. 

“ Let us look at the book,” he said quietly. 

There were few names in the book for it was 
early in the season. Running his finger down the 
page he lighted on “ Mr. and Mrs. Blake.” 

“ Came to-day? ” he asked the manager. 

“ Yes, sir, by the first train. They have taken 
rooms for a week, and are having lunch now in 
their private sitting-room.” 

“ That’s all right, Charlie,” Beck said. “ Mrs. 
Blake and Lilian are inseparable. Come along. 
You need not announce us, waiter, we are old 
friends.” 

There was something strange in his manner but 
I followed him instinctively, scarcely knowing what 
I did, down the passage to the door the waiter had 
pointed out to us. Without a moment’s hesitation 


YOUNG BECK 


146 

he threw the door wide open and pushed me before 
him into the room. 

Two people, a man and a woman, who were 
seated at lunch, leaped to their feet as we entered. 
Facing me with her lips parted and her eyes star- 
ing in wild surprise was Lilian, my own airy fairy 
Lilian, in the wonderful light blue costume in 
which I admired her most. 

The man wheeled round to the door and the 
glass of champagne in his hand fell and smashed 
on his plate. I recognised the imperturbable 
cousin, Aldred, whose mouth fell open with sur- 
prise and dismay when he saw me. But even then, 
so complete was my surprise, that I could not quite 
realise what was passing before my eyes. 

“ Why, Lilian,” I stammered out, “ what is the 
meaning of this? ” 

The woman found her wits first, as is the way 
with the sex. She knew the game was up, and 
she carried it off with splendid audacity. I saw 
the real Lilian at last. 

“ I presume,” she said, pointing to Beck, who 
stood tranquilly at the door, “ that I am indebted to 
you for this unexpected pleasure, he is too stupid 
to have thought of it himself. So kind of you both 
to look us up. Perhaps you will join us at lunch. 
No, must you really be going? Well, good-bye, 
Mr. Beck, good-bye, Lord Kirwood. Thanks for a 
very pleasant visit.” 

Beck got me out of the room somehow, and into 
a boat on the river. When the stunned feeling 
wore off I found that I was not as badly hurt as 
I imagined. I am not fickle, I hope, but the ex- 


“ TWO ARE COMPANY ” 


147 


posure was so complete, the mask thrown so boldly 
away, that my love vanished like a dream at the 
moment of waking, and only gratitude for my 
escape remained. 

“ How and when did you find it out, old chap ? ” 
I asked, as our boat lay at rest in a backwater 
under the trees, and we ate the sandwiches and 
drank the wine his foresight had provided. 

“ Almost at first. You noticed the blood on my 
hand after I searched the carriage? There was a 
little pool of it under the seat so I knew that the 
man who had cut his hand with the glass must have 
hidden himself there, not jumped out of the door 
as Miss Lilian pretended. The wet blood showed 
that he had waited till the train arrived, and then 
walked quietly out of the door when your back 
was turned. The young lady who said she saw 
him leap from the carriage, was, not to put too fine 
a point on it, a liar. Later on I noticed the faint- 
est smear of blood on the lemon-coloured gloves of 
our friend, Aldred, and I took the liberty of ab- 
stracting a red beard and moustache from the 
pocket of his dust coat. 

“ Then of course their whole plot was as plain 
as a pikestaff. I don’t expect they supposed you 
would have been mad enough to get out on the 
footboard, but it would have suited them just as 
well if you had pulled the cord or waited till the 
train got into Victoria. Of course the thief was 
not caught nor the jewels found for the very simple 
reason there were no jewels and no thief. I dis- 
covered, moreover, that Master Aldred had spent 
the forenoon of the day in Brighton, and that Miss 


YOUNG BECK 


148 

Saltern owed no money to Lord Blackwathe. That 
French mission that didn’t come off was arranged 
by your father and myself for your enlighten- 
ment.” 

“ But why didn’t you tell me all this before ? 
Why did you let me make such a silly ass of my- 
self?” 

“ In the first place because I don’t suppose you 
would have believed me ; in the second place if you 
had broken off the engagement you would have 
had to pay dearly for your folly. It was much 
better that the young lady should be induced to 
say ‘ good-bye ’ for ever, and she has just said it.” 


CHAPTER XI 


Gertrude’s queer lover 

My sister chaffed me until I was blue about my 
baby-faced, innocent-hearted Lilian. 

“ You are all the same, you women,” I said. 
“ No man can ever be up to you. Well, I’ve 
learned my lesson once and for all, and if I ever 
care for any woman again you may call me a fool.” 

“ Do I want leave? ” 

“ Oh, hang it all, Gerty,” I said, “ every man is 
entitled to make an ass of. himself about a girl 
once in a way. Even Beck there had his case with 
little Miss Bloom at college. I fancy she turned 
him down, and it’s once hit twice shy with him, too, 
I dare say.” 

I had been glad to get one in on Beck, who had 
been sitting like a fool grinning at Gerty’s chaff, 
but I never expected he would take it the way he 
did. 

“ Shut up ! ” he snapped out. “ Miss Bloom was 
not Miss Saltern. I don’t see why you want to 
drag in her name.” 

“ I’m sure Miss Bloom was a very charming 
young lady,” said Gertrude, “ and I’m very sorry 
for Mr. Beck.” 

“ You need not be, Lady Gertrude,” protested 


YOUNG BECK 


I 5° 

Beck. “ She was a nice little girl all right and 
I pitied her, but as for caring for her in any other 
way, that’s just your brother’s nonsense.” 

“ Pity is akin to love,” retorted Gertrude. I 
wondered why she was so bent on rubbing it in. 
Beck had to swear that he never cared twopence 
about Miss Bloom before she would let him alone. 

Then they both turned on me, and Beck gave a 
description of our breaking in on the luncheon 
party, that nearly sent Gertrude into a fit. Hon- 
estly I could not see the fun of it myself, and I 
was a bit riled with Gerty for laughing the way she 
did. 

“ All right,” I said, sulkily enough I dare say, 
“ when you are gone on some chap, and he makes 
you look silly the laugh will be on my side.” 

The chance came sooner than I expected to get 
a bit of my own back. It was not that Gerty was 
gone on any one, but a man made such a fool of 
himself about her, and I took my chance to chaff 
her about her queer lover. 

There was no doubt at all that old Colonel Mad- 
dox was stark, staring mad about her, and he made 
no secret about his lunacy. Perhaps I shall not call 
him old, for he was not more than fifty-five, which, 
after all, was young for a self-made millionaire. 

“ Colonel ” was, I fancy, an honorary American 
title; anyway I never heard to what regiment, or 
even to what army, he belonged. But he certainly 
contrived to roll up wealth in every country in the 
world, and he was probably one of the hundred 
richest men extant when he tumbled head over 
heels in love with Gertrude. 


GERTRUDE’S QUEER LOVER 151 

The Colonel was not much to look at; prom- 
inent knobby forehead, scrubby moustache, heavy 
jowl and strong square figure completed his phys- 
ical outfit. Millionaire though he was he might 
also be described as vagrant. He “ had no fixed 
abode and no visible means of livelihood.” He 
turned his hand to anything that had money in it 
and lived invariably at hotels. So far as it was 
known he owned nothing but stock and cash. He 
collected nothing, bought nothing that could be 
hired, and had no home. There was one startling 
exception. He was the owner of the great blue 
diamond, which was as big as a medium sized hazel 
nut, and was by many people believed to be the 
most beautiful gem in the world. But this precious 
jewel the Colonel preserved in a safe in London, 
and did not so much as look at it once in five 
years. 

He was staying at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, en- 
gaged in a big electric power deal, when he met 
Gertrude at a garden party given by the Duchess 
of Avendale, and fell in love with her right 
away. 

The strange thing about this sudden collapse was, 
that as far as it was known, Colonel Maddox never 
in his life cared a straw about any woman before. 
But like most people who take a juvenile disease 
late in life he took it badly, and his sy m P toms were 
plain to the world. 

I never can make out why so many fellows go 
dotty about Gertrude. I know a score of girls 
who are brighter and prettier. Still there is no 
disputing about tastes and no questioning about 


YOUNG BECK 


i5 2 

facts. Young Frank Ansley, the Colonel’s nephew 
and private secretary, came almost as bad a cropper 
as his uncle. 

The boy was the one creature in the world the 
tough old Colonel cared about until he met Ger- 
trude. At first he did not seem to notice young 
Ansley’s infatuation, but when he did, and the 
young chap, to do him justice, made no conceal- 
ment, the Colonel went simply raving mad. Before 
half a dozen people he called him a jackanape, a 
puppy, a pauper, whom he had lifted out of the 
gutter, and whom he would fling back again into 
the gutter if he chose. 

The boy never answered a word, but those pres- 
ent noticed that he went deadly pale, and a grim 
look come into his steel grey eyes. 

I must honestly say that Gerty behaved exceed- 
ingly well in the whole business. She was civil 
to both men, perhaps a shade more civil to Ansley 
of the two, which was very natural as he was a 
very handsome, high-spirited young chap, and the 
best of good company. 

Beck, I must say here, took a most unaccountable 
dislike to both. The Colonel he called a cruel and 
greedy old savage, who fancied that money could 
carry everything, and he professed to despise young 
Ansley for kowtowing to the insolent old tyrant 
on the off chance of inheriting his money. 

Before the Colonel knew Gertrude a fortnight 
he proposed to her. She told me all about it after- 
wards, and from her account it must have been a 
very queer and embarrassing proposal. 

He came down to our place in a splendid motor 


GERTRUDE’S QUEER LOVER 153 

car, hired for the day, and stayed on for lunch 
and afternoon tea. All the time, Gertrude declared 
to us, she could see that he was simply brimming 
over with a proposal, but she managed, only just 
managed, to stave him off. He loitered so long that 
the governor, who is the most hospitable of men, 
asked him to stay to dinner and the Colonel needed 
no pressing, but just jumped at the invitation. 

There were about a dozen of us in all, and when 
we entered the dining-room the Colonel, abandon- 
ing the lady he had brought down, planted himself 
on a seat next Gertrude, which belonged to another 
chap. No hint could stir him from the place, and 
Gertrude was afraid to make a fuss. She thought 
him quite capable, she assured me, of publicly de- 
claring that he took that seat in order to propose 
to her. 

The phrase, 44 madly in love,” applied literally to 
the Colonel. He was as irresponsible for his ac- 
tions as a madman, as careless of consequence and 
convention. Gertrude told me the whole story. 

44 Before the soup was removed he began the 
proposal, and kept on proposing through the fish 
and entrees. Fortunately the stout man on the far 
side was a little deaf and wholly absorbed in his 
dinner. The Colonel had turned himself half 
round with his back to his next neighbour, who was 
chatting to the young man at the other side. 

“ 4 Lady Gertrude,’ he said, as the servant put 
down the soup, 4 1 have something important to 
say to you.’ 

44 4 Wouldn’t some other time be better, Colonel 
Maddox ? ’ 


I 54 


YOUNG BECK 


“ ‘ There is no time like the present/ he an- 
swered grimly. ‘ Besides, I may not be able to 
find some other time. It was hard enough to find 
this time.’ 

“ I made a desperate effort to smile that the com' 
pany mightn’t notice. 

“ ‘ You must hear me, Lady Gertrude.’ 

“ ‘ Well, if I must I must, I suppose.’ 

“ ‘ I don’t very well know how to say what I’ve 
got to say. I never talked much to girls; I never 
cared for them. I suppose the best thing is to come 
straight to the point. I love you, and I want you 
to marry me. Wait a moment, if you please. This 
may seem sudden to you, but it is a sure thing. 
I never loved a girl before, I never knew what 
love meant, and used to laugh at the notion. But I 
am as near mad as a sane man could be with love 
of you.’ 

“ 4 I’m very much obliged, I’m sure. Please 
don’t look like that, every one at the table will 
notice. I’m very grateful for your preference 
but ’ 

“ ‘Wait a moment,’ he interrupted again, ‘ let 
me finish. I’m not mad enough to suppose that 
you could be in love with a chap like me. I want 
you to take my love, not to give me yours. Yes, 
yes,’ — this to the waiter — * salmon or sole, I 
don’t care which. That will do. Go away. What 
was I saying? Oh! I’m very rich, one of the rich- 
est men in Europe. Every farthing I have will be 
yours. I will settle every farthing on you. I can 
make more if I want to. Then there’s the blue 
diamond. Queens have hankered after the blue 


GERTRUDE’S QUEER LOVER 155 

diamond. It is yours right away. I brought it 
down in my pocket to give you.’ 

“ 4 Oh, I’m so sorry, Colonel — yes, hock, if you 
please, half a glass — I’m sorry, Colonel, but it 
can’t be. Do please believe me, it can’t be.’ 

“ 4 Is there any one else ? ’ 

You have no right to ask that question, 
Colonel.’ ” 

“ Is there any one else, Gerty ? ” I asked. 

“ Don’t interrupt, Charlie, if you want to hear 
the story. Where was I? Oh, yes. The Colonel 
fixed his eyes on me; they are awful eyes when he 
is angry. 4 It is that young puppy, my nephew,’ 
he said. He looked as if he meant murder. 

“ ‘ No, no,’ I managed to stammer out, ‘ you are 
quite wrong.’ 

“ 4 Am I ? ’ he said, his eyes still fixed on my 
face. 4 I wonder if I am. I’ll find out.’ 

“ * There is no use finding out,’ I said. I was 
sorry the next moment for I saw it made him more 
suspicious of young Ansley. 4 In no case would I 
marry you, Colonel ; can’t you be content, take my 
answer and be done with it ? ’ 

“ 4 Content ! Content to lose the one thing in the 
world I want! You might as well ask a devil to 
be content in hell. Give me some hope, my girl, I’ll 
wait.’ 

“ 4 No, no, don’t wait,’ I entreated. I was really 
sorry for him at the moment. 4 I cannot, I never 
could. I am not worth your worrying about.’ 

44 4 That is a matter of opinion,’ he said. 4 1 
rather think life is not worth worrying about with- 
out you. Well, there is a way out, and I think I’ll 


YOUNG BECK 


156 

take it/ He’s such a queer quiet way, Charlie, that 
he made my blood run cold. ‘ You must not talk 
like that,’ I begged him. 4 You frighten me. It is 
not fair, you know you don’t mean it.’ 

“ ‘ Perhaps not, perhaps not. Anyhow you will 
take the blue diamond ? ’ 

“ ‘ Of course I can’t. How could I ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why shouldn’t you ? I was determined you 
should have it the moment I saw you. I had it 
made into a brooch, and have it in my pocket for 
you.’ 

“ I shook my head. I think he saw I was deter- 
mined. 

“ * All right, I’ll leave it to you in my will. I 
don’t think you will have long to wait, and I don’t 
think you will refuse a dead man.’ 

“ I was horribly frightened, but tried to pass it 
off. I was very nice to him during the rest of din- 
ner, and he was very bright and cheerful for him. 

“ ‘ Good-bye,’ I said, as he was getting into his 
motor that evening, ‘ I hope we shall always be 
good friends.’ 

“ ‘ “ Always ” may be a very short time,’ he 
answered, ‘ anyhow I won’t forget the blue dia- 
mond,’ and before I could answer he drove away.” 

Gertrude told me the story the same night the 
thing happened; I could see she was frightened 
about the Colonel. Two days later came the news 
of his murder at the Cosmopolitan Hotel. 

I will put down here all I heard about the busi- 
ness from first to last. 

The Colonel had been grumpy for a couple of 
days, especially with his nephew, with whom he 


GERTRUDE’S QUEER LOVER 157 

dined alone the night before the murder, but his 
man, John Fraser, who had been with him twenty- 
years, and who knew every turn of his temper, 
reported that he was in good humour when he 
retired to rest. The Colonel’s last words as he left 
the room for the night were : “ It is not such a bad 
world after all, John, I shall be sorry to leave 
it. There’s no knowing what is on the other 
side.” 

About six the next morning the whole hotel was 
roused by the din of the electric bell from the 
Colonel’s room and a storm of cries in the Colonel’s 
voice. “ Boots ” rushed to the door, and found it 
locked on the inside. He flung himself recklessly 
against it again and again, but could not shake it. 
A crowd gathered in the corridor, frantic with 
excitement. The cries continued, “ Help ! Help ! 
Help ! ” Then there was a fall and a groan and 
dead silence. 

Some one came rushing from a far room with a 
heavy dumb-bell, and battered in the door, crashing 
the panels and bursting the lock. The crowd, half 
dressed for the most part and mad with 
excitement and curiosity, broke pellmell into the 
room. 

At the further end, behind the chintz curtains of 
the bed, lay Colonel Maddox on his face, with his 
arms spread out, stone dead. A knife had been 
driven with tremendous force through his back to 
his heart. The window was open and both the 
bedroom and the bathroom, which was shut off by 
a curtain, were searched and found empty. 

I had the rest of the story from Beck, who was 


YOUNG BECK 


158 

stopping at the hotel and reached the room a min- 
ute after the body was found. 

The crowd was still speculating over the manner 
of the murder, and Beck specially noticed John 
Fraser, half dressed and very pale, gazing on his 
old master with a strange piteous look in his eyes 
as if striving to fathom the mystery. He saw the 
man’s eyes turn from the corpse to the dressing- 
table. 

“ The blue diamond! ” Fraser cried. “ The blue 
diamond is stolen! It was on the master’s table 
when I left him last night, it was there when I came 
in a moment ago.” 

“ The fellow has a head on his shoulders,” Beck 
thought. 

“ Shut the door,” he cried. “ If the diamond has 
been stolen by some one in the room it must be 
found.” 

The hotel detective shut the door and faced the 
others. 

“ Now,” said Fraser, “ search me first.” 

The detective searched him, then each in turn, 
none objecting, and found nothing. 

Beck noticed that young Ansley did not appear 
on the scene. He found him later in his room 
groaning over a sprained ankle. 

a What is the infernal row?” he asked. “I 
jumped to the door when I heard it, nearly fainted 
with pain, and only just managed to crawl back to 
bed again. I had a stupid fall last night, tripped 
011 the edge of the carpet, sprained my ankle, and 
bled my nose. What is the row about, Beck? I 
thought I heard my uncle’s name.” 


GERTRUDE’S QUEER LOVER i 59 

“ Your uncle has been murdered,” said Beck 
deliberately. “ He has just been found in his room, 
stabbed through the heart.” 

If ever surprise and horror were plain on a face 
they were plain on Ansley’s. His mouth fell open, 
his eyes stared at Beck with a vacant stare. 

“ You don’t mean it,” he muttered in a hoarse 
whisper. “ I must go to him.” He made an effort 
to rise and fell back groaning and sweating with 
agony. 

“ If this is acting,” Beck thought to himself, “ it 
is superb.” But he reserved judgment. 

Little more was disclosed at the inquest. It was 
thought impossible that the murderer could have 
escaped from the window. There was a drop of 
nearly thirty feet into a tiled yard. A monkey could 
hardly have jumped from one window-sill to the 
other. Besides, several people had looked out of 
their windows during the screaming and saw noth- 
ing. 

Young Ansley gave his evidence clearly with a 
frankness that disarmed suspicion. When he had 
gone up to his room that night he had tripped and 
fallen and sprained his ankle. His face came first 
to the floor and his nose bled furiously. No, he 
had not called any one, he was a bit ashamed of 
making such a blooming ass of himself. The ankle 
did not pain so much that night. He tied it up as 
well as he could with a damp pocket handkerchief 
and a towel. It was all swelled and black and blue 
in the morning, and he could not move about with- 
out great pain. There was blood on his collar and 
cuffs, and a bloodstained handkerchief was found 


i6o YOUNG BECK 

beside his bed, but that was accounted for by the 
bleeding of his nose. 

The doctor’s evidence was the surprise of the 
inquest. He gave it as his clear conviction that 
Colonel Maddox had been murdered several hours 
before the first cry was heard in his room. It might 
have been as many as six hours, but he was quite 
sure it was at least three. 

So the matter rested for a week. A will was 
found which left the Colonel’s whole vast property 
to young Ansley, but there was a recent codicil 
giving the blue diamond to Lady Gertrude Kir- 
wood, with a prayer that she would accept it as a 
token of his esteem and regard. 

Gertrude was in a terrible state over the whole 
business. She is as a rule quiet enough as girls go, 
but this got on her nerves and nearly drove her 
mad. I never saw such a woebegone face as she 
showed at breakfast the next morning after the 
news of the murder. 

“ This is terrible, Charlie,” she said in a whis- 
per, “ terrible.” And she looked at me as if I were 
a callous monster to be able to eat. Old Maddox 
was not a bad sort of chap, and I was very sorry 
for him, but I thought this was carrying the thing 
a bit too far. 

“ Try and eat some breakfast, Gerty,” I said. 
“ This is a bad business, of course, but it cannot 
be helped.” 

“ No,” she said softly, “ it cannot be helped now. 
But it is terrible to feel myself responsible for his 
death.” 

“Responsible! You? Have you gone mad ? ” 


GERTRUDE’S QUEER LOVER 161 

“ If I had been a little more gentle, a little more 
considerate, it might not have happened.” 

“ In Heaven’s name what might not have hap- 
pened ? ” 

“ Poor Colonel Maddox would not have com- 
mitted suicide. You need not start in that foolish 
way, Charlie; of course it was suicide. He almost 
said he would kill himself. Remember I told you 
at the time and you would not believe it.” 

“ But my dear girl, a man does not commit sui- 
cide by stabbing himself in the back.” 

“ It was to divert suspicion. He would contrive 
to fall on his knife like the old Romans fell on their 
swords.” 

“ It was impossible,” I said. 

“ Indeed,” she said sharply, “ and do you think 
it possible he was murdered, when there was no 
one else but himself in the room ? ” 

“ But if he stabbed himself,” I argued feebly, 
for I was bewildered at her suggestion, “ how could 
he call for help three hours, at least so the doctor 
swears, after he was stone dead?” 

“ If he was murdered how could he cry out three 
hours after he was stone dead? ” 

“ That’s true enough. It’s a blank mystery any 
way you look at it.” 

“ I feel it is suicide,” Gerty insisted, “ I have an 
instinct it is suicide.” 

“ Have it your own way,” I replied, “ it is sui- 
cide.” I went on with my breakfast, a little sulk- 
ily, I’m afraid. A man does not like to be put in a 
hole. 

But she came behind me and put her hands on 


162 


YOUNG BECK 


my shoulders, and when she stooped to kiss me I 
felt a tear wet on my cheek. 

“ Oh Charlie, you must not talk like that ! Can’t 
you see how miserable I am? I don’t want to have 
it all my own way, as you call it. I would give any- 
thing in the world to prove it wasn’t suicide. Can’t 
you find out? Couldn’t you get your clever friend, 
Mr. Beck, to find out ? ” 

“ I’m sorry, old girl, if I hurt you. I’ll do my 
level best, and see Beck about it to-day. Now eat 
some breakfast to please me.” 

She tried, but it was the merest pretence. Her 
fingers were trembling as she crumbled the toast on 
her plate. Twice the tears started to her eyes but 
she kept them back bravely. 

Beck was plainly put out when I told him about 
Gertrude, and when I laughed at the notion of sui- 
cide he got a bit riled. 

“ If it’s not suicide,” he said, “ will you kindly 
say what it was? Who murdered Colonel Maddox 
and when? ” 

“ Surely you don’t think it was suicide, Paul ? ” 
I asked in amazement. 

“ That’s a different matter. I don’t think any- 
thing at present, but I don’t think there is any- 
thing to laugh at in Lady Gertrude’s notion 
of suicide. The whole business is in black dark- 
ness.” 

“ Perhaps young Ansley might help,” I sug- 
gested. 

But when we called at the hotel we were told 
that he was suffering from nervous prostration and 
could see no one. 


GERTRUDE’S QUEER LOVER 163 

“ I will try and have a chat with Maddox’s man, 
Fraser,” Beck said; “ he may be able to let in a 
little light somewhere.” 

We saw John Fraser next day. He had been 
left a hundred and fifty pounds a year by the Colo- 
nel in consideration of his long and faithful service, 
and was staying at a quiet and cheap hotel until he 
could get another place. 

“ Idleness don’t suit me,” he said to Beck, “ but 
I am in no hurry for a new place, I have something 
to do first.” 

A strong, quiet, capable man was Fraser, of 
about fifty years of age, over twenty of which had 
been spent in the service of Colonel Maddox. His 
face was cast in the mould of rugged honesty, and 
his blue eyes looked you squarely in the face. He 
spoke now with great deliberation as if weighing 
the effect of each word. 

“ You may be sure, Mr. Beck,” he went on, “ I 
would help you if I could to track the murderer. 
The Colonel was a good master to me. I had rea- 
son to like him, I have reason to be sorry for him, 
no man more. But I have found out nothing — 
so far.” 

“ You suspect some one?” I said, caught by his 
manner, “you suspect something, Fraser?” 

“ Suspicion is no proof,” he said slowly, “ I have 
no right even to mention my suspicion.” 

Beck gave him a keen look. 

“ You are searching for proof,” he said, “ so are 
we. Why should we not work together? ” 

“ If you give me your address, sir,” Fraser said, 
“ I will write to you the moment I have anything 


YOUNG BECK 


164 

worth telling. I think it is better for me to go my 
own way at present and let you go yours.” 

“ A shrewd fellow ! ” was Beck’s comment when 
we got into the street. “ Just the fellow to do what 
he wants to do. I should not be surprised if we 
get some useful information from Mr. Fraser.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE LOCKED DOOR 

Never before or since have I seen Paul so non- 
plussed. 

“ What worries me, Charlie,” he said, “ is that I 
feel there is a perfectly simple solution lying 
straight before our eyes and I cannot see it.” 

When we returned late that evening to Kirwood 
Castle we found Gertrude more convinced than ever 
that it was suicide. 

“ I know Mr. Ansley didn’t do it, if that is what 
you are suspecting, Mr. Beck,” she said. 

“ I suspect nothing and nobody for the present,” 
put in Beck. “ I am just feeling round with my 
eyes bandaged.” 

While we were having our coffee and cigars he 
said to me : 

“ Look here, Charlie, I’m about beat and I know 
it. I have been playing blindman’s buff with the 
case long enough, and I badly want the bandage 
taken off my eyes. I’m thinking of running over 
to see my people. Very likely the whole thing will 
be simple to them. The governor will laugh at my 
denseness and the mater, when she has given me 
the right hint, will try to make out that I knew it 
all along. I wish you would come over with me.” 


YOUNG BECK 


1 66 

“ All right, old man, but I don’t believe any one 
else is likely to succeed where you have failed.” 

“ That means you don’t know the old folks at 
home. However, seeing is believing.” Then after 
a pause he added a bit nervously : “ Do you think 
your sister would care to come too? A change 
would do her good.” 

“ I’m sure she’ll come,” I said. “ Your people 
are great pets of hers; she dotes on your mother.” 

“ I hope you are right there. Shall we try? ” 

He drank his coffee and liqueur in two gulps and 
made straight for the drawing-room, but turned 
back at the door and let me in first. 

Gertrude was sitting in front of the fire, her 
elbow on her knee and her chin on the palm of her 
left hand, looking the picture of misery; a very 
pretty picture of it she made, too. She brightened 
up so when we came in you would not think she was 
the same girl. 

I proved right about the visit — she was de- 
lighted to go. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said to me eagerly after Beck 
was gone. “ Those two will find a way out if 
there’s any way. They are supernaturally clever, 
and as nice as they are clever. I adore Mrs. Beck.” 

“ How would you like her for a mother-in-law ? ” 
I asked, hardly knowing what I was saying. 

I never in my life saw Gerty so angry. She 
flushed rose red and her eyes blazed. I guessed 
what was coming and tried to run from the storm. 

“ Don’t look so wrathy,” I pleaded, “ of course 
I was only jesting.” 

“ But why of course ? ” she snapped out. “ I 


THE LOCKED DOOR 167 

don’t appreciate the humour of the jest. I won’t 
go down with you to-morrow.” 

This frightened me. I could see that Beck was 
bent on her coming. I hadn’t any excuse to offer, 
and I couldn’t tell him what happened. So I grov- 
elled and coaxed, and after much trouble I induced 
her to promise. I believe now she meant to come 
all the time. 

We ran down by motor, and Mr. and Mrs Beck 
met us at the door of their delightful house in 
Kent. 

I wish I could give you a notion of Mr. and Mrs. 
Beck as I saw them standing there together on 
the high stone steps, their faces bright with wel- 
come. The sight of their happiness would tempt 
any one to matrimony. 

If I wasn’t mistaken there was a special welcome 
for Gertrude. Mrs. Beck impulsively kissed her as 
she stepped from the motor on to the steps, and 
Mr. Beck in a grave way lifted her hand to his lips. 
I have always thought old Beck’s manner to women 
was the spirit of romance carried into the hurry 
scurry of the twentieth century. I can well under- 
stand why they are all so fond of him. 

“ The case is not to be mentioned until after 
dinner,” he said to Paul. “ If I were lucky enough 
to find a clue for you, or what is far more likely, 
your mother found it, you would be for darting 
back to London the next minute. I don’t want 
that, and I won’t have it.” 

Gertrude paired off with Mrs. Beck to look at 
the rose garden that bordered the river, dropping 
red leaves into the stream, and to talk woman’s 


1 68 


YOUNG BECK 


talk. We three went for a game on the beautiful 
and carefully kept golf links. Mr. Beck played 
our best ball and beat us. He knew every blade 
of grass on the links and his short play was perfect, 
more like billiards than golf in his accuracy in 
placing and holing. 

“ Dora beats me two games out of three,” he 
remarked with a pleased chuckle on the way home. 
“ I have often advised her to go in for the ladies’ 
championship, but she hates publicity and excite- 
ment.” 

“ Curious,” I remarked, smiling at the remem- 
brance of Miss Dora Myrle’s exciting career. 

“ But true,” chimed in Paul. “ The little mother 
would never care to go beyond the ring fence of 
our own grounds.” 

We dined in a delightful room, wainscotted in 
old oak and looking out through the wide, broad 
windows on the swift flowing river, from which the 
skilful hands of old Paul Beck had extracted many 
a lusty trout and salmon. 

“ Don’t go,” old Beck said, when dinner was 
over, detecting, as it seemed with the back of his 
head, Mrs. Beck’s little gesture to Gerty. “ Don’t 
go, we want the ladies in this cabinet council. We 
go with you or you stay with us, but we don’t part. 
Dora, my dear, if you got the wine and dessert 
shifted to that little table close to the window, we 
could take our coffee there and make ourselves 
mighty comfortable.” 

Through the open window came the faint music 
of the stream, and the soft sweet breath of the 
roses on the gentle air. The ladies insisted that the 


THE LOCKED DOOR 


169 

cigars should be lit, and the men not unreluctantly 
complied. We were, as Mr. Beck put it, “ mighty 
comfortable,” but it did not in the least look like 
a set scene for the discussion of a murder. 

Gertrude opened the proceedings. “ Now, Char- 
lie, tell them all about it, or perhaps it would be 
better for Mr. Beck to tell, if he will.” 

There was a short contest between us as to which 
should not tell the story. I won and Beck told 
it, short and clear, not a word too little or too much. 

“ Fve examined the yard under the window,” he 
said, “ and found no sign of any kind, and I don’t 
think a man could jump out without smashing 
himself. I thought at first that some one might 
have let a rope down but I found that the room 
overhead was let to the Dowager Countess of Cal- 
lister, and she ran to the window the moment the 
cries for help were raised.” 

“ What about the window of the bathroom ? ” 
asked Mrs. Beck. 

“ Still more impossible. A small round window 
with no sill, only a bird could fly through it.” 

“ If the murderer could not get out of the win- 
dows he must have got out through the door,” said 
Mr. Beck. “ There was no other way.” 

“ But the door was locked on the inside,” ob- 
jected Paul. 

“ The man escaped,” insisted his father. 

“ Unless it was suicide,” Gertrude ventured. 
“ Oh, I’m horribly afraid it must have been sui- 
cide.” 

“ It was not suicide,” cried husband and wife 
together, and Gerty’s face lit up with relief. Any- 


YOUNG BECK 


170 

how, the man’s death did not lie at her door. It 
was curious how completely she took their word 
for it. 

“ Now, let us pass from place to persons,” said 
the elder Beck. “ Did you see young Ansley’s 
ankle? Was it really bad? ” 

“ Horribly black and swollen.” 

“ He might have hurt it escaping,” I suggested 
foolishly. 

“ Hardly,” young Paul remarked, smiling. “ He 
certainly could never get back with a badly sprained 
ankle from the courtyard to his bed.” 

“ Were you there when the door was broken 
open?” old Beck asked his son. “Were you one 
of the first into the room ? ” 

“No, I think I was one of the last. The crowd 
was gathered round the corpse when I came in.” 

“ Most of them half dressed? ” 

“ All of them looked as if they had just jumped 
out of bed and ran, anything on that just came 
to hand. Some had stockings, some had bedroom 
shoes, but most of them were in their bare feet.” 

“The man Fraser, how was he dressed? Was 
he in his bare feet, did you notice ? ” 

“ Of course I noticed, I could not help noticing. 
He was dressed in his shirt and trousers with his 
suspenders hanging down, and had his shoes on, 
unlaced.” 

Paul Beck the elder exchanged a glance with 
his wife, who nodded assent. It was plain that 
those two already understood each other, which 
was more than the rest of us did. 

“ Rubber heeled shoes ? ” Mr. Beck asked. 


THE LOCKED DOOR 


171 

“ Yes,” said his son, with a puzzled look on his 
face, “ rubber heeled shoes.” 

“ Did it strike you as curious that he should 
have put on his shoes ? ” 

“ It did strike me as curious. I could make 
nothing of it then, I can make nothing of it now 
unless ” 

“ Wait a moment. When Fraser cried out that 
the blue diamond was stolen, you said that the 
detective searched the people in the room, including 
Fraser? ” 

“ Including Fraser,” Paul answered, and there 
was question in his answer. What was in his 
father’s mind? He had a glimmering of his mean- 
ing, I fancy, and was thinking furiously. Gerty 
and I on the other hand were utterly bewildered 
by questions, which appeared to us mere purpose- 
less jargon. 

“ Can’t you guess now how the murderer got 
in and out ? ” old Beck asked ; “ and how the dia- 
mond vanished? ” 

Mrs. Beck flew to her son’s rescue. 

“ Of course he can,” she chimed in, “if you will 
only give him a moment’s time to think. Paul, did 
you happen to notice that there was a slit about 
the height of a man’s eyes in the curtain between 
the bedroom and the bathroom ? ” 

He started, and was silent for a moment. Then 
he drew a long breath and his face lit up as with 
a light from within. 

“ So that was it? ” he said, turning to his mother. 

“ Yes,” she said, nodding brightly, “ that was 


it. : 


172 


YOUNG BECK 


“ I was a fool not to see it before, it was so 
simple. That little hole lets in the light.” 

“ The simplicity puzzled you,” interposed his 
father. “ It was so simple to stand an egg on its 
end, but no one could do it until Columbus tried.” 

Gerty’s patience snapped at last. 

“ I don’t want to know anything about Colum- 
bus,” she cried, “ but I do want very badly to know 
about this horrible business. There you three go 
talking in riddles, and looking so bright and 
pleased with each other while poor we stand out in 
the cold perishing with curiosity. You tell me, 
please,” she said, turning entreatingly to young 
Beck. 

“ I hope to tell you everything to-morrow eve- 
ning,” he said, “ when I have something certain 
to tell. So far it’s only a good guess. I’m off to 
London to-night.” 

“ So I expected,” said his father. “ I’ve ordered 
the motor: you will have a fine moonlight drive.” 

“Will you come, Charlie?” asked Paul. 

“ Why, certainly, I wouldn’t lose it for the 
world. When do you hope to be back? ” 

“ To-morrow evening, I trust.” 

“ Then, Gertrude, you can stay here until we 
return.” 

“ Good-bye, Charlie,” she said. “ Good-bye, Mr. 
Beck,” and she gave him her hand. “ I hope you 
will catch the murderer and find the diamond.” 

“ I hope so,” responded Beck. 

The car jerked forward, and we sped along the 
lovely avenue into the night, startling the darkness 
with the sudden glare of our lamps. We were up 


THE LOCKED DOOR 


173 


and out early next morning. At a hardware shop 
Beck bought a turnscrew. “To open the murder- 
er’s mouth,” I suggested. 

“To open something almost as important,” he 
retorted. 

We picked up a detective at Scotland Yard, and 
called on Mr. Fraser at his private hotel. The 
detective stayed outside while we two went into 
the shabby parlour where Fraser was alone. He 
professed himself much pleased to see us. 

“ I brought Lord Kirwood along,” Beck ex- 
plained. “ He takes almost as much interest in the 
case as I do myself. Have you found out anything 
yet ? ” 

“ I think I have a clue, sir, which will enable me 
to lay my hand on the murderer any time I want 
to, but it would be injudicious on my part to say 
more at present.” 

“ Quite right,” said Beck cordially, “ very inju- 
dicious on your part. Well, Eve been thinking 
over it myself since, and I fancy I’ve found out 
something too. Very likely our suspicions point 
to the same person.” 

For a second I though I saw fear start to light 
and vanish in the shrewd eyes of Mr. Fraser. 

“ Indeed, sir,” he said smoothly. 

“ I’d like to know what you think of my notion, 
if you don’t mind.” 

Fraser nodded without speaking, and moistened 
his lips slowly with his tongue. 

“ I was puzzled,” Beck went on, “ by the fact 
that the murderer could not get in or out after the 
bedroom door was locked.” 


174 


YOUNG BECK 


“ That is just the puzzle,” said Fraser, with the 
faint shadow of a smile. 

“ Well, it occurred to me that he might have got 
in the night before, just after you left, you know.” 

“ I left about half-past twelve,” said Fraser, and 
added incautiously, “ I was fully dressed at the 
time.” 

“ Fully dressed, were you ? ” said Beck, with a 
grim smile. “ Well, my notion is that the man that 
came back after you left was dressed only in shirt 
and trousers, and curiously enough in laced shoes 
with patent rubber heels.” 

For the life of him, literally for the life of him, 
Fraser could not refrain from glancing down at 
the shoes he wore. They were laced shoes with 
patent rubber heels. 

“ Colonel Maddox must have known the man 
who entered after you left, Fraser, for it is plain 
that he was neither surprised nor alarmed. The 
cowardly assassin, whom he trusted, watched his 
chance and drove a knife through his heart. Then 
the murderer stole the blue diamond, which was 
not on the Colonel’s dressing-table but in the Colo- 
nel’s pocket, and hid it. Could you help me to 
guess where he hid it, Fraser? ” 

The man looked at him with staring vacant eyes, 
but said no word. Beck went on pitilessly: 

“ The murderer locked the door on the inside 
and made himself comfortable in the bathroom for 
the night. He did not like being so near the dead 
body, very likely, but he would not take the risk 
of coming and going. Is that right, Fraser, does 
your clue match mine? ” 


THE LOCKED DOOR 


I 75 


Fraser, who had sunk into a big, shabby chair 
and lay huddled up in it, nodded, actually nodded 
his assent, and I heard him mutter under his 
breath : “ You’re a devil from hell.” 

“ Next morning,” Beck went on, “ the murderer 
himself raised the alarm, so that a crowd might 
assemble while he waited behind the curtain of the 
bathroom, in which he had cut a slit about the 
height of his eyes. When the door was smashed 
open the crowd burst in, and in the crush and con- 
fusion he joined the throng of half-dressed men, 
and was safe so far. You remember, Fraser, it 
was you who called out that the diamond was gone, 
and a search was demanded. At the same moment 
the assassin had the diamond cleverly concealed in 
a cavity in the heel of one of his shoes under the 
rubber covering, which screws on and off quite 
easily. The shoes, I fancy, were like the pair you 
are wearing at present.” 

The man had recovered something of his dogged 
courage. 

“ What do you want me to say ? ” he growled. 
“ You have made my confession for me, and I have 
only to put my name to it and be hanged. But 
I’ll say this. It wasn’t altogether for the diamond 
I did it. The man was a devil to those under his 
thumb, and I was under his thumb for a little thing 
he found out, which I did when I was no more 
than a boy. Many a time he struck me when he 
was in a rage, but his fist was nothing to his tongue; 
he could blister you with his tongue. Many a day 
I was tempted to do away with him, and when I 
had the chance I took it, that’s all.” 


YOUNG BECK 


176 

“ And the diamond ? ” 

“ It is here,” said Fraser, and stooped to unlace 
his right hand shoe. Then, quick as thought, he 
jerked it off, and with the same rapid movement 
sent it straight at Beck’s face. 

Quick as he was, Beck was quicker. He ducked 
as the other threw, and the heavy shoe went crash 
into the glass behind him. The detective came 
running into the room at the sound. Without the 
faintest show of resistance Fraser held out his 
wrists and the handcuffs were snapped on him. 

Beck picked up the shoe. 

“ As he presented me with this, I think I am 
entitled to keep it. What do you say, Inspector ? ” 

“ All right, sir,” said the Inspector. “ Shall I 
see you in the court to-morrow about twelve? We 
will have him up before the magistrate.” 

“ I’ll be there,” Beck promised; '‘though that 
leaves me little time to spare. Come along, Char- 
lie ! ” and he ran down the stairs with the shoe in 
his hand. 

“ The Cosmopolitan Hotel,” he said, as we 
stepped together into a taxi. This time he insisted 
on seeing young Ansley, taking no excuse. “ I 
have good news for him.” he explained. “ Good 
news that won’t wait.” 

We found the boy lying on the sofa in his sit- 
ting-room. I seldom saw a sicker man than he 
looked. The bright, gay, happy-go-lucky young 
Ansley whom I had known had wholly vanished. 
There was no sign of him, no likeness to him in 
that pale, wearied, worried-looking creature that 
lay on the sofa. 


THE LOCKED DOOR 


177 

“ Well, Beck,” he cried impatiently, “ you said 
there was good news. Tell it, man, tell it! No 
news can be good to me unless the news that they 
have caught my uncle’s murderer.” 

“ That’s just the news I’ve brought you,” said 
Beck. 

Ansley in his excitement leaped to his feet, for- 
getting his sprained ankle, and fell back with a 
groan, but pain could not master his impatience. 

“ Is it true ? ” he whispered in a broken voice, 
struggling with his agony, “ nod that it is true. 
How can I ever thank you, Beck? You know, of 
course, they suspected me because I received his 
money. I have been watched and spied upon, there 
have been all sorts of hints and suggestions. I 
have had anonymous letters roundly charging me 
with the murder and the theft of the diamond.” 

“ The jewel is here,” said Beck, holding up the 
heavy shoe. 

He quietly twisted out the screws that held the 
rubber in its place, took from a cavity cut in the 
heel of the shoe a small, red morocco case and 
offered it to Ansley. 

“ You are the executor of the will.” 

Ansley motioned it back. 

“ It’s not mine,” he said. “ By the will the dia- 
mond is Lady Gertrude Kirwood’s. No, don’t 
open the case, Beck. I have never seen it, and I 
don’t want to see it. Will, you, like a good fellow, 
take it straight to Lady Gertrude? I would go 
myself if it were not for this confounded ankle. 
She didn’t suspect me ? ” 

“ No,” said Beck, “ not for a moment.” 


YOUNG BECK 


178 

“ Will you take her the diamond from me ? ” 
Ansley asked. 

I wondered to see Beck wince and hesitate for 
a moment before he spoke. 

“ All right,” he said at last, “ I will. It’s only 
fair when you can’t go yourself. Good-bye, Ans- 
ley, come along, Charlie.” 

He had me out of the room before I had time 
to congratulate Ansley on his escape and his in- 
heritance. 

Old Beck' and the two women received us on the 
door step when our motor came humming up the 
avenue. Mrs. Beck had her arm linked in Ger- 
trude’s. 

“ Well,” she said, with a smile for her son, 
“ what about the curtain ? ” 

“ You were right, of course, mother,” he an- 
swered, as we went into the drawing-room to- 
gether. “ Indeed I was so sure you were right 
that I did not even go to look for the slit in the 
curtain. We went straight off and caught the 
murderer and found the diamond.” 

“ Glorious ! ” cried Gertrude, “ tell us all about 
it.” 

He told her all about it in a few words. I no- 
ticed that Mr. and Mrs. Beck did not seem to want 
any telling. Then he put the little morocco case 
into her hands. “ Mr. Ansley desired me to give 
you this,” he said shortly. 

“ What has Mr. Ansley to do with it? ” 

“ He is the executor of the will.” 

“ Oh ! ” She opened the case and stood speech- 
less with delight at the beauty of the gem, a daz- 


THE LOCKED DOOR 


179 

zling oval, about the size of a bean, of pure, pale 
blue set very simply in platinum. 

Gerty’s eyes opened very wide and her lips 
parted in a kind of rapture, the strange fascination 
that jewels have for women full upon her. For 
a long moment she was silent. Then she said very 
softly, without looking at Beck : 

“ I am very grateful to poor Colonel Maddox 
for leaving me the jewel, and to Mr. Ansley for 
sending it, but I shall always consider it as a gift 
from the finder. But for you, Mr. Beck, it might 
have gone off in the heel of a murderer’s shoe.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE BLUE DIAMOND 

Big jewels have a way of getting people into 
trouble, witness the moonstone and other famous 
gems too numerous to mention. The blue diamond 
was no exception to the rule; within six months it 
vanished in a fashion almost as exciting as it came. 

I was smoking a final cigar with the governor 
before my reluctant departure to Lady Betty Mon- 
tague’s ball, when, with a soft swish of silken 
skirts, Gertrude glided into the room. 

“Well, how do you like me?” 

She stood audaciously there in the rich glow of 
the rose-tinted lights, challenging admiration. She 
was dressed in some kind of rich, silky, cream- 
coloured stuff picked out with pale blue and edged 
at the bosom with old lace. Her hair was parted 
in two great waves above her brow, and its thick 
coils twisted into a coronet of old gold. She wore 
no jewels except the superb blue diamond. It 
gleamed and sparkled amid the lace in the dip of 
her white bosom, pure, pale blue as the summer’s 
sky at noon, and as full of light. 

What did I think of her? The governor took 
the word out of my mouth. “ Superb ! Perfect ! ” 
he said ; then, as she stooped her stately head to kiss 


THE BLUE DIAMOND 181 

him, “ there is many a young fellow would give 
his immortal soul for that, Gerty.” 

“ 4 To waste his whole soul in one kiss upon 
those perfect lips,’ ” I quoted. “ You are very nice, 
Gerty, my dear, but it does not quite run to that. 
Even Beck ” 

She turned sharply on me with a hot flush on 
her cheeks and a hot light in her eyes. She looks 
fine when she’s riled. 

“ I wish you wouldn’t talk such nonsense, Char- 
lie, you know I don’t like it.” 

Whatever is the reason Gertrude can never stand 
any chaff about Beck. She is never as chummy 
with him as with other chaps not fit to tie his shoe 
strings. I have often wondered why. Sometimes 
I am afraid she does not like him, and is even mod- 
erately civil to him for my sake. 

“ All right,” I said, “ all right. I’ll promise not 
to do it again until the next time. But what about 
that diamond, Gerty? Had you not better be 
careful? There have been a lot of jewel robberies 
lately; one not a month ago at the very house we 
are going to.” 

“ Don’t be frightened, my dear, the diamond is 
all right. It is fastened under the lace with little 
gold chains to my corset. It simply couldn’t be 
snatched without snatching me along with it.” 

“ Anyhow, chains or no chains, I’m glad Beck 
will be there on guard.” 

“ Mr. Beck again,” she said, shaking a warning 
finger at me. “ Come along, lazy bones, we’re late 
as it is. Good-bye, dad, I wish you were coming 
with us.” 


i 82 


YOUNG BECK 


“ And I wish I wasn’t, even for the pleasure of 
your society, my dear, the very little I would be 
likely to get of it.” 

I thought of the governor’s words afterwards in 
the ball-room. He certainly would not have had 
much of Gertrude to himself. She was beyond 
doubt or question the belle of the ball. All the men 
fluttered round her, eager for a dance or even for 
a word or a smile in the intervals of the dances. All 
except Beck, who kept aloof from the crowd. He 
danced a couple of dances with Gertrude, and for 
the rest of the time loafed about chatting to men 
and women, with whom he was equally popular. 

Every man to his taste. Gertrude was very 
pretty no doubt, but to think or say she was the 
handsomest or most fascinating woman in the room 
was simply absurd. There was Margery Glenmore 
for one, the great actress; Gertrude simply couldn’t 
hold a candle to her. Margery was a glorious bru- 
nette and I always liked brunettes. Byron says : 
“ Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light of a 
dark eye in woman.” My sentiment exactly. I found 
her as clever and as charming as she was beautiful, 
a little reserved at first, — I heard she had a hard 
time as a girl, — but after a while the ice melted 
and she was as bright and sparkling as a running 
stream. We had two dances and sat out a third. 
It was while we were sitting out the third that 
something happened. 

Gertrude, whom nothing ever tires, was enjoying 
herself to her heart’s content, when in the middle 
of a two-step some awkward bounder planted his 
hoof on her skirt and nearly tore it from her back. 


THE BLUE DIAMOND 183 

He burst the “ gathers,” or something of that kind ; 
there was great danger the skirt would come off 
on the dancing-room floor. A pretty predicament 
that for a girl ! But Gertrude is equal to any emer- 
gency. Holding her dress up as best she could she 
glided to a corner near the door, turned the handle 
swiftly and slipped out unseen. 

Before the dancing began Lady Montague had 
specially called the ladies’ attention to the fact that 
a sewing-maid was provided in the dressing-room 
for repairs. Straight as a bird for its nest Gertrude 
made for this harbour of refuge. The big room, 
when she got there, was dimly lighted and empty, 
but a light came from a half open door at the fur- 
ther end of the room. Thinking perhaps the maid 
might be there Gertrude pushed the door wide open 
and looked in. The small bathroom was also empty 
but it had been rigged up as a supplementary dress- 
ing-room for the occasion. It was brilliantly 
lighted. There was a full length glass at one end 
of the room and on the dressing-table an inviting 
array of pin cushions. As Gertrude passed through 
into this inner room the door swung behind her 
and closed with a snap, then suddenly all the lights 
went out, and she was at once aware of a pungent 
odour in the air which caught her breath when she 
tried to scream. 

Now thoroughly frightened she groped wildly 
for the door. It was fast locked and though she 
beat upon it wildly with her open palms till her 
hands ached, no relief came. Again and again she 
tried to scream, but her voice died away in a hoarse 
whisper. The potent gas in the small, closely shut 


YOUNG BECK 


184 

room was fast mastering her. She seemed grad- 
ually to lose all weight, to be lifted from the ground 
and float away into dark space, till at last she heard 
the dull thud of her own fall on the soft carpet, 
and passed into complete unconsciousness. 

The sewing-maid returning from her supper 
found her lying insensible on the floor of the larger 
room, and gave the alarm at once to her mistress. 
Just at that moment I entered the dancing-room 
with Miss Glenmore, and Lady Betty signalled me 
impatiently from the door. 

“ Your sister has fainted in the dressing-room,” 
she said. “ Don’t look so frightened, I’m sure it’s 
nothing serious. Come with me.” 

Gertrude was lying on her back on the carpet, 
her arms stretched out, so limp and motionless that 
for an instant I thought she was dead. There was 
a broad Chesterfield sofa in the room and I lifted 
her on to it, making her head comfortable on a 
pillow, while poor little Lady Betty with tears of 
sympathy in her eyes ran hither and thither like a 
frightened bird. 

Gradually the colour stole back into Gertrude’s 
pale cheeks, faint as the warming pink on the petal 
of a white rose. Her breath came more deeply 
and regularly, and before her eyes opened her 
hand stole up flutteringly to the bosom of her 
dress. 

Then for the first time I noticed that the blue 
diamond was gone, torn with brutal force that 
burst the gold chains and rent the dress. At the 
same instant Lady Betty noticed it too, and her 
big eyes dilated with horror. 


THE BLUE DIAMOND 


i85 

“ It’s stolen/’ she said in an awe-struck whisper. 

“ I hope the brutes haven’t hurt her,” I whis- 
pered back, my heart hot with rage. 

For answer Gertrude’s eyes opened suddenly and 
met mine. 

“ I’m not a bit hurt, Charlie,” she whispered, 
“ but — oh, yes, it’s gone, my beautiful diamond is 
gone.” 

“ Don’t fret, darling,” I said, kneeling down on 
the floor beside her. “ Thank God you are safe. 
We’ll get it back for you, never fear, and get even 
with the brutes that stole it. Are you quite sure 
you are not hurt ? ” 

“ I feel as well as ever, only a little weak. My 
head aches, that’s all.” 

“ But how did it happen, Lady Gertrude? ” Lady 
Betty broke in, bubbling over with sympathy and 
excitement. Gertrude told her story amid a storm 
of sympathetic interjections on the part of Lady 
Betty. 

“ Oh, what shall we do ? ” cried her impetuous 
little ladyship at last. “ I’m sure it’s some gang of 
thieves that have been stealing everybody’s jewels 
lately; no one seems to be safe. Fancy their for- 
cing their way into my dressing-room! Perhaps 
it is one of the guests in disguise. Shall I telephone 
for detectives, Lord Kirwood, and have them 
searched? ” 

“ Do nothing so foolish,” I protested. “ The 
thief, whoever he is, has had lots of time to hide 
his booty. It must have been a man, for only a 
man’s hand would have the strength to snap the 
gold chains in that fashion/’ 


i86 


YOUNG BECK 


“ But what will we do, we must do something? ” 

“You know my friend, Beck, Lady Betty?” — 
she nodded twice. “ Well, you might fetch him 
here, if you don’t mind. Not a word, please, to a 
soul else; just tell Beck that we want him here, my 
sister and I. He has a wonderful twist for this kind 
of thing. If any man living can find a clue to the 
thief and the diamond, Beck is the man.” 

I thought I saw the colour heighten in Gertrude’s 
cheeks when I mentioned Beck’s name, and as Lady 
Betty vanished, she leaped lightly from the sofa, 
caught up a silk wrap, and deftly curled and coiled 
it to hide the breach in her bodice. Then, still 
before the long mirror with dexterous little pats, 
she coaxed her tossed and rebellious hair into order. 
Her back was to the mirror when Beck came hur- 
rying in, followed by Lady Betty. 

The imperturbable Beck was strangely excited, 
the kind of excitement that shows in a pale cheek 
and low voice. I never before saw that queer little 
dimple in his chin so plain. 

“You are not hurt, Lady Gertrude?” he asked. 

“ Not in the least, nor frightened. I would not 
mind anything, if I only had my diamond back.” 

“ And the thief caught,” chimed in Lady Betty. 

“ Yes,” Beck agreed sternly. “ I would dearly 
like to catch the thief. Would you mind telling 
again, Lady Gertrude, how it all happened ? ” 

She told the story again in almost the same 
words. Beck listened in absolute silence. 

There was a long pause when she had done. 
Never before had I seen Beck look so quiet or so 
angry. It boded ill for the thief, I thought. 


THE BLUE DIAMOND 


187 

“Well,” cried Lady Betty impatiently, “have 
you found a clue, Mr. Beck? ” 

In spite of himself he laughed at her child-like 
impatience. 

“ I wish I had,” he replied. “ I’d give a lot to 
lay my hand ” — he raised a hand clenched hard — 
“ on the cowardly ruffian. But you must search 
for clues, Lady Betty, before you find them. Let 
me have a look at the room in which Miss Kirwood 
was locked.” 

The door of the room was fastened but the key 
was in the lock. The door opened readily, but 
swung back with a strong spring and snapped as 
it closed. By an ingenious arrangement the closing 
of the door turned off the electric light. Behind 
the big mirror there was a rubber bag deflated with 
a weight pressing it down. 

Beck sniffed. 

“ Laughing gas,” he said, “ it must have been 
discharged from the bag a few minutes before Lady 
Gertude entered the room. What about the maid, 
Lady Betty, why had she left just at that time? 
Perhaps she was hiding somewhere waiting devel- 
opments. I should like to have a word with the 
maid if I might.” 

“ Certainly,” said Lady Betty, “ I have sent for 
her, but I don’t think it would be of any use. She 
is a most trustworthy girl who has been in my 
employment for five years.” 

“ That may be,” said Beck, apparently uncon- 
vinced, “ but I should like to hear her explain 
why she was out of the room at this particular 
time” 


i88 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Oh, I can explain that. I told her she might 
go to her supper at two o’clock and stay for half 
an hour. She must have been at supper when Lady 
Gertrude came in; it was she who found her after- 
wards, you know. In any case she will be here 
in a moment.” 

Even as she spoke there was a knock at the door. 

“ Come in ! ” cried Beck, and a pleasant faced 
girl of about thirty came in, and stood staring in 
manifest surprise at the two gentlemen in the la- 
dies’ dressing-room. 

“ It’s all right, Martha,” said Lady Betty, “ there 
has been something stolen, and we are making 
enquiries. Mind you are not to mention it to any 
one. You need not wait.” 

“ The girl is the soul of honesty,” protested her 
mistress. “ I’d risk my life she had nothing to do 
with the robbery.” 

“ I quite agree with you,” said Beck. “ I’m very 
glad I saw her all the same, it turned me off from 
a blind trail.” 

“ You have thought of something,” she cried, 
her curiosity excited by the tone of his voice. 

“ Not yet,” he answered smiling, “ and to speak 
frankly I would not tell you if I had. You see I 
want to find the diamond and catch the thief, and 
prattling won’t help.” 

“ How dare you, Mr. Beck? I never prattle about 
secrets ! ” 

“If you don’t know them,” laughed Beck sud- 
denly, in high spirits. 

“ Even if I do.” 

“ You say your prayers, I’m sure, Lady Betty, 


THE BLUE DIAMOND 


189 

morning and evening. • Lead us not into tempta- 
tion.’ I am not going to lead you into temptation.” 

“ I’ll match your quotation, Mr. Beck,” she re- 
torted sharply. “ 4 When the blind lead the blind.’ 
I fancy you know no more than myself.” 

“ Very likely. Then we agree that neither of 
us tell the other how much we know.” 

“ I think it is time we were going,” interposed 
Gertrude, who had listened with chill disapproval 
to Beck’s badinage with the pretty widow. “ I 
don’t feel quite so well now. I’m very sorry to 
lose my diamond, of course, but I don’t want you 
to worry about it, Lady Betty. I am sure you will 
accept our apologies, — you don’t mind, Charlie, I 
hope? Are you coming with us, Mr. Beck?” 

Gertrude was as cold as an icicle to Beck all the 
way home in the electric brougham. But I, who 
knew him better than she did, guessed by his gaiety 
that he had already found out something. 

“ Good night, Gerty,” I said, when we were in 
the hall. “ Don’t go yet awhile, Beck, let us have 
a drink and a smoke and a talk over this business. 
I rather guess you have something up your sleeve.” 

“ Mayn’t I come, too ? ” said Miss Gertrude, as 
meek as a mouse. 

“ No,” I answered with the frank brutality of a 
brother. “ You were as cross as two sticks all the 
way home. Naughty little girls must be punished. 
Besides you are tired, you know, and must go to 
bed.” 

“ But I’m not tired now.” 

“ All the same,” I began when Beck cut me short 
without ceremony. 


YOUNG BECK 


190 

“ Don’t pay the smallest attention to him, Lady 
Gertrude. Of course you may come, if you like, 
and if you are not feeling too tired.” 

Gertrude’s manner changed from chill winter to 
genial summer when we got together in my snug- 
gery. 

“ Whiskey and soda is not good enough for this 
cabinet council,” she said, and she knew where to 
fish out a bottle of champagne and two long thin 
tumblers. She herself on compulsion sipped a 
little cherry brandy and nibbled a biscuit. She 
was still looking pale from her exciting adven- 
ture. 

“ Now, Beck,” I said when we had got our 
cigars going, “ whom do you suspect? ” 

“ That’s not a fair question,” he protested. 
“ Suspicion is not proof, much less certainty.” 

“ That’s always the way with you,” I grumbled, 
“ you want to break the news on us in the end like 
a thunder clap. We two are to be trusted; we’ll 
take an oath if you want us to.” 

“ Wait a bit,” Beck urged, “ until I know some- 
thing for certain.” 

“ Please, Mr. Beck,” said Gertrude, and he gave 
in at once. 

“ Mind, it is only a guess, Lady Gertrude, but 
I think there is strong probability behind it. Did 
you happen to notice who stood on your dress? ” 

“ No, there was a bit of a crush. I only just 
felt the tug.” 

“ He didn’t apologise then ; under ordinary cir- 
cumstances you would expect a gentleman to apolo- 
gise? ” 


THE BLUE DIAMOND 


191 

“ That’s true, but I went out of the room very 
quickly.” 

“ The man had time enough if he wanted ; he 
didn’t want.” 

“ Did you see him, Mr. Beck? ” 

“ Yes,” said Paul, and I thought he coloured a 
little as he said it. “ I happened to be looking that 
way at the time. I saw him tear your dress, I saw 
him leave the room shortly after you. It looked to 
me as if the thing had been done on purpose. But 
I don’t go on that. It must have been done on 
purpose so that you would have to go to the dress- 
ing-room while the sewing-maid was out of it. 
The thieves were too cunning to leave anything to 
chance. The laughing gas was ready for your 
coming; if you had been five minutes late it would 
have been exhausted. It is plain there was a con- 
spiracy. Now who were the conspirators? The 
man who tore your dress was one. Who was the 
other? Who had control of the rooms? Who ar- 
ranged that the sewing-maid should be away at the 
very time you should come to have your dress sewn 
up?” 

“ Lady Betty ! ” cried Gertrude. “ Do you mean 

Lady Betty ? Why, I thought she and you ” 

She blushed and left the sentence unfinished. 

Beck went on quietly : “ I don’t say yes or no, 
positively, at present. I have only just told you 
in what direction suspicion leads me. When I add 
that the name of the man who tore your dress 
was the Honourable Neddy Baxter, a great 
friend of Lady Betty’s, I have told you all 
I know.” 


192 


YOUNG BECK 


“ But you’ll find out everything ; you’ll get back 
my lovely blue diamond,” Gertrude entreated. 

“ I’ll try my best,” said Paul. 

Gertrude thanked him as if he had already suc- 
ceeded; I must confess I felt a little that way my- 
self. 

The rest of the story I have on hearsay. As we 
were smoking next morning after breakfast Paul 
said quite suddenly : 

“ I am thinking of going out of town for a few 
days, Charlie. Probably to-morrow morning at 
eight o’clock.” 

“ I’d like to go with you.” 

“ Not this time, I’m afraid. I have already se- 
lected my travelling companion. The Honourable 
Neddy Baxter and myself have arranged to run 
over to Amsterdam together. That is to say, I’ve 
arranged it, and I fancy he will be good enough 
to fall in with my plans.” 

“ Couldn’t I go too? ” 

“ No, I’m afraid not; he knows you and he 
doesn’t know me. I mean this as a surprise party 
for the man who assaulted your sister and stole her 
diamond.” 

With those last words Beck dropped his tone of 
badinage, and there was a look in his eyes that I 
would not like to have brought there. I did not in 
the least envy the Honourable Neddy Baxter the 
pleasant little surprise there was in store for him. 


CHAPTER XIV 


HIDE AND SEEK 

I saw no more of Beck for a week, and had no 
word from him. Gertrude was in such a state of 
nervous excitement that I was afraid she would be 
ill. Every morning as she came down to break- 
fast she made for the letters that lay in a pile at 
the top of the breakfast table and turned away dis- 
appointed. It came at last. I saw her eyes light 
up as they fell on a packet. 

“ It is in Mr. Beck’s hand-writing,” she said 
softly, “ and the postmark is Amsterdam. But 
surely it cannot be. Why, he has only been six 
days away.” 

“ If you open it you will know for certain,” I 
ventured to suggest, for she was twisting the packet 
in her fingers without any apparent intention of 
breaking the seal. 

“ I suppose so,” she assented, half reluctantly ; 
women like to play with surprise and curiosity. 

She broke the seal and carefully untied the string 
instead of cutting it, and then from the cotton wool 
stuffing of a solid square box picked out the blue 
diamond. 

“ Isn’t he wonderful ! ” she cried in sheer delight 
and triumph. “ But why hasn’t he sent me a line 
with it? Oh, he has,” 


YOUNG BECK 


194 

A small note was folded under the cotton wool 
in the wooden box, where I for one would never 
have looked for it. Gertrude fished it out and read 
it to herself. I thought a shadow of disappoint- 
ment crossed her bright face as she read. 

“ May one hear? ” I asked. 

“ Oh, any one may hear,” she replied, “ he is 
too modest for words. He writes as if he handed 
me a glove I happened to drop. 

u ‘My dear Lady Gertrude, — I have much 
pleasure in restoring your blue diamond brooch. I 
send it by registered post to avoid delay. I trust 
the thieves who ill-treated you so shamefully will 
be brought to justice. 

“ ‘ I will be at Liverpool Station, London, the 
morning after you receive this note, and would be 
very glad if your brother could conveniently meet 
me on my arrival. 

“ ‘ Yours ever sincerely, 

“ ‘ P. Beck/ ” 

“Would you like to come, too?” I asked ma- 
liciously. 

Her bright eyes and heightened colour told how 
she was tempted. 

“ No,” she said after a pause, “ I’m afraid it 
wouldn’t do. But mind, Charlie, you bring him 
straight on here ; I’m simply aching to know what 
has happened.” 

“ All right,” I said, “ straight as he’ll come.” 

Let me confess that all that day my own impa- 
tience completely mastered me. I was, to use an 


HIDE AND SEEK 


I 95 


Irish phrase, like “a hen on a hot griddle” — 
never a moment at rest. Half an hour before the 
time I was on the platform, loitering aimlessly 
about. I thought the train would never come, but 
punctual to the hour it steamed into the station. 
Beck’s eye caught mine as the train went by, and 
he was at my side on the platform before it stopped. 
Always inclined to dandyism, he was dressed as I 
had never seen even Beck dressed before, in the 
extreme limit of masherdom; his tie was a triumph, 
his waistcoat a glory. 

“ Too good of you to come, old chap,” he said 
as we shook hands, “ and too bad of me to ask 
you. I’ve had the devil of a time of it, as the 
parrot said when he was interviewed by the mon- 
key. Got a taxi? Yes, that bag, the new one, is 
mine, porter! ” 

“ I’m under orders from Gertrude to fetch you 
straight home,” I said, as I stepped after him into 
the taxi. 

“ No, no, I must go to my chambers first, have 
a bath and make myself moderately decent. I’ve 
wired to have breakfast ready. You join me at 
breakfast, and telephone your sister we will be over 
in an hour’s time.” 

Of course he had his way, as he always had 
except when Gertrude is to the fore. When Greek 
meets Greek! In a quarter of an hour Beck was 
down to his breakfast, spick and span from his 
bath. While we ate we talked. 

“ You remember I told you I suspected the Hon- 
ourable Neddy Baxter and Lady Betty Montague; 
well, I was right.” 


YOUNG BECK 


196 

“ I guessed as much.” 

“ It was not by any means their first venture in 
that line, I suspect. The plan was too adroitly laid 
for novices. Having marked my man I kept my 
eye on him as the easier of the two to watch. Am- 
sterdam, you know, is the world’s market for jew- 
els. The Honourable Neddy, I thought, was pretty 
sure to make for Amsterdam. Luck favoured me 
again. 

“ As I loitered about Liverpool station I saw him 
come in. There was half an hour to spare before 
the train, so I thought I saw my chance. I made 
a bolt to the telegraph office and sent a wire with 
a prepaid form to Lady Betty, and put his initials 
to it. ‘ Wire at once the lowest price.’ Just as the 
train started I had the reply, ‘ Ten thou’.’ That 
clinched the question. With a light heart I pur- 
chased a first-class return to Amsterdam and 
stepped into the same carriage with the Honourable 
Neddy without as much as a tooth-brush in the way 
of luggage. I had dressed myself up in the clothes 
you saw this morning on the chance of meeting 
him, but I stupidly neglected to take a bag and 
some things with me. 

“ We fraternised at once, interchanged civilities 
and cigars, and before we reached Harwich we 
were fast friends. You know how vacant I can 
look when I set my mind to it, and how candid. 
Well, I concealed nothing at all about myself from 
the Honourable Neddy. I told him I had lost my 
luggage and was travelling in the clothes I stood 
up in. It seems I had just come in for a pot of 
money by the death of my uncle and was celebra- 


HIDE AND SEEK 


197 

ting. There was a little girl in the Alhambra that 
was gone on me, and I had promised to pick her 
up something pretty in the way of diamonds in 
Amsterdam; I had heard it was the place for that 
kind of thing. They piled on the price in London 
and Paris, but you could get something real nice 
for an old song in Amsterdam, if you knew the 
ropes. 

“ The Honourable Neddy knew the ropes and 
promised to help me, and we grew more chummy 
than ever. We had a bottle of champagne on board 
to cement our friendship, and I took just a drop 
too much. 

“ I could not go to bed, of course, because I had 
no night gear, and my new pal obligingly offered 
to sit up with me. I don’t know which of us sug- 
gested cards to while away the time, but whichever 
suggested it the other gladly agreed. By a liberal 
tip we contrived to get a cabin to ourselves; by a 
lucky chance the Honourable Neddy had a couple 
of packs of cards in his bag. We played all through 
the night, first ecarte and then piquet. He showed 
himself a past-master of both games, but though I 
played like a self-conceited duffer that fancied him- 
self no end, he had only netted a beggarly hundred 
or so when we arrive!! at grey dawn at the Hook 
of Holland. 

“ I was, of course, eager for my revenge ; the 
Honourable Neddy was good-naturedly willing to 
oblige me, so we started our game again, fresh as 
ever, the moment the train pulled out for Schiedam. 

“ It was a very interesting game, Charlie. The 
Honourable Neddy meant to pluck his pigeon 


YOUNG BECK 


198 

clean. As I have said he played remarkably well; 
not to put too fine a point on it he cheated shame- 
lessly. Imitation they say is the sincerest flattery, 
and I flattered him to the top of his bent. We 
were in the position of the two sharpers of whom 
one said to the other as they sat down to cards: 
4 Shall we play fair or all we know? ’ 

“ The Honourable Neddy and myself played ‘ all 
we knew,’ and it turned out I knew a trifle more 
than he did. For one thing, I knew he was cheat- 
ing while he regarded me as an innocent but hon- 
ourable duffer. We played for a pretty smart fig- 
ure from the first. But when the hundred pounds 
came back to me he insisted on raising the stakes 
in order to make the most of his time. But I had 
a wonderful flow of luck, which his skill was unable 
to check. He kept on plunging recklessly, expect- 
ing every minute luck must change and skill prevail, 
but all to no purpose. When we reached The Hague 
I had his I. O. U.’s for £750 in my pocket-book. 

“ Then I refused to play any more. At first I 
pretended I was too sleepy, afterwards openly de- 
clared that he was not my match at the game, and 
that I had won as much of his money as I cared 
to. Gradually his temper began to flare up and 1 
fanned the flame. * You confounded young jacka- 
napes ! ’ he said at last, ‘ you know as much of the 
game as the sole of my shoe. It was your con- 
founded luck that pulled you through. If you 
won’t play, I won’t pay, not a blooming far- 
thing! ’ 

I’ve got your I. O. U.’s,’ I retorted, and 
tapped my pocket-book for the express purpose of 


HIDE AND SEEK 


199 

riling him. ‘ If you don’t pay I’ll post you in every 
club in London, as a defaulter. I’ll publish the 
I. O. U.’s facsimile in the Winning Post! 

“ He was in a white heat of rage but there was 
method in his madness. His eyes fixed on the 
pocket-book which I held so carelessly. I could see 
that he meant to have his I. O. U.’s back without 
paying for them. As you know he is a big, mus- 
cular chap, twice my size, and did not expect that 
I should be much trouble, especially when taken by 
surprise. 

“ But I was playing for this all the time, and was 
ready when it came. As he made a sudden dash 
for the pocket-book I snapped it out of reach, and 
at the same time slapped him across the face. Then 
for three minutes we had as pretty a tussle in the 
narrow, swaying, railway carriage as you could 
wish to see. He struck out furiously and I dodged, 
waiting my chance. Parrying a slogging right- 
hander I landed a neat upper cut with my left on 
the point of the chin, and, in the elegant language 
of the ring, ‘ put him to sleep.’ 

“ It was a bitter disappointment. I made sure 
of finding the diamond. He hadn’t it, but it was 
some consolation to find in the inner lining of the 
last pocket I searched a long letter signed ‘ Betty,’ 
which I saw at a glance was most interesting. 

“ Without scruple or hesitation I transferred the 
letter from his pocket to my own just as he began 
to wake up. He grunted, stretched himself and 
opened his eyes, little or none the worse for his 
knock-out. I was kneeling at his side with the 
brandy flask in my hand, horribly flurried and ex- 


200 


YOUNG BECK 


cited and gabbling apologies and contrition. ‘ Oh, 
I am so sorry,’ I cried, ‘ I thought I had killed you, 
I never had such a fright in my life. I know I 
behaved like a bounder, and of course I should 
have given you your revenge.’ 

“ He took a strong pull at the brandy flask, sat 
up on his seat, and generously forgave me. Five 
minutes later we were at the cards again, hammer 
and tongs. 

“ My luck deserted me as I had no further use 
for it, and he had practically won back his I. O. U.’s 
when the train glided smoothly through green 
meadows and bright, wide, flower patches, cross- 
barred with shining canals into Amsterdam. So 
busy and excited was the Honourable Neddy with 
the cards and the recapture of his I. O. U.’s that 
he never missed the letter until after we had parted 
the best of friends at the railway station. 

“ Already I guessed what had become of the blue 
diamond. Lady Betty and her friend were taking 
no risks. The gem would come to him by regis- 
tered post on the wire of his safe arrival in Amster- 
dam. There was nothing more to be gained by 
fraternising with Neddy, for the friendly game was 
now completely played out. He was bound to miss 
the letter and guess how he had lost it. My trick 
with the wire from Liverpool station was also pretty 
certain to come to light. The Honourable Neddy 
would be on his guard, so I must keep clear of him 
for the future. 

“ I heard him give the direction, 4 Amsel Hotel,’ 
to the driver at the station, and I proceeded to quar- 
ter myself opposite, and selected a room where I 


HIDE AND SEEK 


201 

had full view of his front door. Then I set out to 
buy myself necessaries. 

“You have never been in Amsterdam, Charlie? 
The whole place, streets, houses, people are appal- 
lingly clean. With the dust and grime of a day and 
a night’s travel on me I felt like an outcast in this 
sanctuary of cleanliness, as out of place as a dirty 
boy in a maiden aunt’s drawing-room. 

“ It was a curious feeling to walk about those 
clean streets and in and out of those speckless shops 
in a state of such absolute destitution. I bought a 
complete Dutch outfit, at last, and a bag to put it 
in, and so back to my hotel. My friend was going 
out as I passed the door but I dodged down a side 
street, and fortunately he did not see me. He 
walked on briskly, I following, until he came to a 
telegraph office and went in. That was enough for 
me, if my theory was right, and I was pretty sure 
it was right, the jewel was due by the next regis- 
tered post. Then we should see what we should 
see. 

“ From my bedroom window I watched out for 
the postal delivery at the Honourable Neddy Bax- 
ter’s hotel, and then I watched out for himself. 
About eleven o’clock I was rewarded by seeing him 
come out into the street, and with a quick look up 
and down walk briskly away. Making all the haste 
I could I was only just in time to catch a glimpse 
of his figure as he went smartly round the corner. 
At first I had a hope, a vague hope, that he would 
carry the diamond straight away to some diamond 
merchant, that I should catch him flagrante delictu. 
Plainly he was too cautious for that. He turned 


202 


YOUNG BECK 


into one or two shops as he passed, a tobacconist’s 
and a stationer’s, and made a few small purchases. 
Then he headed, walking a good four miles an 
hour, for the open country, I following two or three 
hundred yards in the rear. 

“ From the motion of his elbows I could see he 
was doing something with his hands as he walked. 
What it was, of course, I could not tell, nor did I 
guess until afterwards. 

“ As we went further and further out into the 
country amid the meadows and gaily variegated 
beds of tulips, crocuses, daffodils and hyacinths, I 
was strongly tempted to make a dash for the dia- 
mond then and there. He had it about him, I was 
almost sure, and I was not less sure that if I once 
laid hands on him I could secure it. But it was 
almost certain, too, that he was armed and would 
not hesitate to shoot. He would have an excuse 
ready if I attacked him, and I had no wish to pose 
as a dead thief, so I waited and watched. 

“ As an English tourist interested in my sur- 
roundings I carried my field glasses with me and 
used them. But the queer old town, the windmills 
and the canals, the meadows and the fields of flow- 
ers in streaks and patches of vivid colours claimed 
very little of my attention. In all Holland there 
was no view half so interesting to me as the Hon- 
ourable Edward Baxter. 

“ He slackened his pace when he was clear of 
the town, and sauntered slowly by the canal until 
he came to one of the innumerable bridges. Lean- 
ing over the parapet he took a cigarette from a 
small gold case, lit it with a match from a small 


HIDE AND SEEK 


203 

gold matchbox, and smoked slowly and luxuri- 
ously. 

“ Those were capital glasses of mine. Though 
we were nearly a quarter of a mile apart I could 
see every movement distinctly, and read every vary- 
ing expression of his face. At present he seemed 
merely bent on wasting a pleasant half an hour 
watching the sluggish flow of the water that mir- 
rored the pale blue of the sky. Still I watched and 
waited. He smoked his cigarette to the end, which 
he flung, a hissing spark, into the water. Very 
deliberately he extracted another from the case. 
But when he came to light it he fumbled with the 
small gold matchbox till it slipped from his fingers 
and flashed a streak of yellow light in the sunshine 
and splashed in the water below. Plainly, as if I 
were beside him, I saw a look of almost savage 
annoyance that came into his face and guessed that 
curses came from his moving lips. For a moment 
he stood gazing down into the muddy depths where 
the box had disappeared. Then with an angry 
gesture he flung the unlighted cigarette after the 
box and turned back into town. 

“ I guessed he had seen me watching him and 
this pantomime was for my edification, but if so 
it did not deceive me for a moment. 

“ Did I ever tell you, Charlie, how the governor 
fished out a necklace of drowned diamonds, which 
had been hidden in the depths of the sea with a 
cork float and fishing line attached. Not for a 
moment did I doubt that the astute thief had played 
the same trick with the blue diamond. It was safely 
hidden, I felt certain, in the foot-deep mud at the 


204 


YOUNG BECK 


bottom of the six-foot water of the canal. I had 
sight of him the whole way walking rapidly across 
the level plain until his solitary figure vanished into 
the town, and then as rapidly as he had left I made 
for the bridge over which the matchbox had 
dropped. 

“ In my whole life I never experienced a keener 
disappointment. The surface of the canal below 
the bridge was clear as a newly dusted mirror. 
Not so much as a leaf or a twig or a blade of grass 
showed on the smooth dark water. With the pow- 
erful glasses I searched the surface as with a micro- 
scope, I made sure that if so much as a thread 
showed I should detect it. There was nothing. 
The matchbox had disappeared irretrievably into 
the mud at the bottom. 

“ Raging with disappointment I cursed myself 
as half a dozen different kinds of fools. The 
rogue was cleverer than I thought. He had seen 
me watching him, and had fooled me to the top of 
my bent. While I was loitering on the canal bridge 
he was disposing of the blue diamond to the best 
advantage to some not too scrupulous diamond 
merchant in Amsterdam. 

“ Could I be yet in time? There was a bare 
chance, one in a thousand, that I should catch him, 
and I set out at a walk that was almost a run for 
the town. I had reached the outskirts when the 
true explanation flashed upon me. It was so clear 
and so certain that I stopped short in my tracks 
and laughed aloud. Then I walked on slowly, 
laughing to myself at my discovery. 

“ Once in the town I went to my hotel and 


HIDE AND SEEK 


205 

changed my clothes for a lighter suit, purchased 
a fishing rod, as a pretext for fishing, and betook 
myself again to the bridge. 

“ For half an hour I fished assiduously and 
caught what I expected to catch — nothing. From 
the bridge I got down to the canal’s brink, and, 
waiting until the coast was clear, I laid my rod 
aside and slipped quietly, clothes and all, into the 
cold water. The touch of it chilled me to the bones, 
as I dived slowly towards the spot where the match- 
box went in, searching the dim depths with my 
eyes. Far down in the still water I caught sight 
of a little wavering line of white and struck out 
straight for it ; within a yard or two I knew it was 
a wooden match magnified and distorted by the 
water. As my fingers closed upon it I felt the 
little tug and pull one feels when a fish is on his 
line ; there was a thread fastened to the match, and 
as I pulled I felt a weight lifted from the mud 
below. 

“ The strain on my lungs was beginning to tell. 
The exhausted air went up in a little stream of 
bubbles from my nostrils, but I pulled away at the 
thread until the gold matchbox came into my 
eager hands. Then I turned and darted upward 
for the light that glimmered and wavered over my 
head. 

“ Three strong strokes and my head broke 
through the placid surface of the canal, six more 
and I was at the bank. 

“ Some one must have seen me tumble in for 
there was a little crowd on the bank when I came 
out. Three Dutch hands were stretched out to me 


206 


YOUNG BECK 


and there was a guttural murmur of Dutch sym- 
pathy and satisfaction when I scrambled on to dry 
land. My rod lying about was the explanation of 
my ducking, and a good Samaritan, who carried a 
rod, warmed me with a pull from a squat flask of 
fiery Hollands. 

“ With the gold matchbox and its precious con- 
tents safe in the pocket of my clinging trousers I 
walked back at a round pace to my hotel, dripping 
canal water as I went. I changed my clothes with- 
out opening the box; I knew the diamond was 
there without looking. 

“ An hour later I was at the central police office 
with an application for the arrest of the Honour- 
able Edward Baxter, on the charge of stealing the 
blue diamond. I had trouble in putting the Dutch 
police in motion, but when I showed them the 
jewel and the matchbox with his crest on it, and 
my story of the robbery was confirmed by wire 
from Scotland Yard, the Dutch police got busy at 
last. 

“ The Honourable Neddy, whom they found 
placidly lunching at his hotel, made a bit of a fuss 
at the start, but at the sight of the matchbox he 
collapsed. When the extradition formalities are 
completed he will revisit his native shores. 

“ That is the whole story, Charlie; I was never 
so glad to have a scoundrel laid by the heels, for 
he and his wretched accomplice might have killed 
your sister between them.” 

“ How about Lady Betty Montague ? ” 

“ The warrant is out for her too, and she may 
be arrested at any moment.” 


HIDE AND SEEK 


207 


As he spoke the servant entered the room. 

“ A lady to see you, sir. Says she must see you 
at once, it is a matter of life or death.” 

“ Show her up, John,” said Beck quietly, then 
to me as the servant left the room, “ I can guess 
who the lady is.” 

I guessed too, and we both guessed right. In 
another moment Lady Betty came in with a rush, 
charmingly attired and looking all the prettier for 
her manifest excitement. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad to catch you at home,” she 
cried, stretching out a daintily gloved hand which 
Beck quietly ignored, “ and you, too, Lord Kir- 
wood. You are a very naughty man, Mr. Beck,” 
she went on, “ and I suppose I ought not to speak to 
you at all. But as you got me into all this trouble 
you may as well get me out of it. I have just had a 
line from poor Neddy, which he managed to write 
under the very noses of the stupid Dutch police. 
You were too hard on him, indeed you were. But 
he is a man and can stand the racket, and has prom- 
ised not to give me away. 

“ Of course you will save me,” she went on after 
a pause, with a new note of anxiety in her voice, 
for Beck had said no word and made no sign. 
“ You won’t have me sent to jail for that wretched 
jewel, especially as the girl has it back again. It 
was no fault of mine if I wanted money and had 
to get it the best way I could.” 

“ I fear,” said Beck coldly, “ you have been read- 
ing the romances of Baffles, the ‘ amateur burglar,’ 
and of the stupid imitators of Baffles. That’s all 
very well in a story but in real life robbery is rob- 


208 


YOUNG BECK 


bery, whatever the ingenious fiction writer may 
think or write to the contrary, and those that rob 
must take the consequences.” 

“ Now don’t be too absurd, Mr. Beck,” she pro- 
tested half angrily. “ Surely you do not class me 
with those low people who go about with jimmies 
and revolvers and break into safes, and all that 
sort of thing. I’m no hypocrite, goodness knows, 
whatever else I may be. I have to live, I suppose, 
as well as other people in my position, and I cannot 
live without money. My way is better than com- 
pany promoters and money-lenders who cheat the 
widows and orphans. Whatever I take I take from 
people that can afford it, and surely that must count 
in my favour.” 

“ You can try that argument, Lady Betty,” said 
Beck shortly, “ when you come before a jury of 
your fellow-countrymen.” 

A quiet, middle-aged man entered the door be- 
hind Lady Betty and put his hand on her shoulder. 

“ You will excuse me, sir,” he said to Beck, 
“ duty is duty. I saw you leave your house, my 
lady, and followed you here. I’ve a cab waiting.” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 

As has already been said the records of the Kir- 
wood family were full of exciting adventures, 
which is indeed the main reason why this book 
came to be written. We were not well out of the 
robbery and excitement of one jewel robbery when 
we were into another. 

“ I’ve news for you, Charlie,’' cried Gertrude, as 
she darted impetuously into the breakfast room one 
morning, her silk skirts rustling like a small water- 
fall, her eyes dancing with delight. “ Such news ! ” 

“ A marriage, of course,” I said, looking up from 
my paper. 

“ Well, yes, a marriage, but you need not look 
so frightened. Margery is not going to be married, 
at least not to any one else. Now guess ! ” 

“ Not Beck, by any chance.” 

“ Don’t be absurd,” she answered, with quite un- 
necessary heat, “ you are too stupid for words. It’s 
Cynthia Dale to Starkey Colthurst. Isn’t it glori- 
ous? I had two letters, which I read in bed this 
morning, a short one from dad, and a gushing one 
from Cynthia, but they both came to the same 
thing; they are to be married in a month.” 

“ I thought you said Starkey Colthurst. Well, 


210 YOUNG BECK 

I wish the governor joy; she will make a nice little 
step-mother.” 

“ Don’t try to be silly, I assure you it is an un- 
necessary exertion. But aren’t you glad, Charlie? ” 

I was glad. Not as glad as Gertrude, of course; 
a man is never as much pleased with a marriage 
as a woman — but very glad all the same. Starkey 
Colthurst is the ' best fellow going, and Cynthia 
Dale is a fascinating little witch. I might have 
fallen in love with her myself if I had not seen 
Margery Glenmore. 

The marriage was what chaperons would call 
“ eminently suitable.” Starkey Colthurst was a 
poor man, but by common consent the ablest mem- 
ber of the government, a man well in the running 
for the premiership, and Cynthia Dale was an heir- 
ess. Her mother had died when she was born, and 
her father when she was only a slip of a girl, ap- 
pointing my father her guardian and trustee for 
her estates in three counties. She was horribly 
rich, but if she had not a penny to her name Cyn- 
thia was a girl that any man might have gone mad 
about, a lively, lovely, little brunette, tingling with 
vitality from the toes of her tiny feet to the rebel- 
lious curls of her dainty head. 

Gertrude and she had been at school together in 
Paris. There was just three years difference be- 
tween them, and three years is an eternity to school- 
girls. Gertrude mothered her at school, picked her 
out of innumerable girlish scrapes into which she 
plunged, and loved her as women always love the 
people they are particularly good to. 

In her first season Cynthia had caught Colthurst 


FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 21 1 


— her very first ball, her first appearance in the 
ball-room. He came, saw, and was conquered — 
Colthurst who, if he could help it, had never looked 
at a girl before. 

Some one has said that a man of one book is a 
man to be feared. The man of one love is not less 
formidable. He wooed and won with the same 
irresistible force with which he conducted a debate, 
and carried a triumphant division. It was about 
the fastest love-making on record. A fortnight 
after they met they were engaged, and in a month’s 
time they were to be married. Never were a pair 
more unlike, never were a pair more desperately 
in love. The gay little coquette was puzzling her 
pretty head with high politics. The grave states- 
man was as recklessly, as irresponsibly happy as 
a school-boy. 

All this Gertrude told me in quick gushes of talk 
at the breakfast table, continually interrupting me 
and herself. 

“ And, oh Charlie, she is to have the Dale emer- 
alds as a wedding present. The old Countess of 
Rockwell is giving them to her. They came to the 
Countess as belonging to the elder branch. She is 
as old as the hills, and as poor as a church mouse, 
for she hasn’t two thousand a year of her own, 
but nothing would induce her to part with the 
emeralds, and now she is giving them away of her 
own accord. People say she is half in love with 
Mr. Colthurst herself; she always goes to hear 
him in the House. At any rate, the emeralds have 
come out of the safe where they have lain for the 
last thirty years, and are being reset for Cynthia. 


212 


YOUNG BECK 


It is a lovely necklace that Cynthia has seen once; 
she says two of the stones are nearly as big as 
my blue diamond, but I don’t believe her.” 

The course of true love ran smooth as it ran fast. 
The governor was to give the bride away and Ger- 
trude was best bridesmaid. Among the guests 
that filled the house to overflowing were Mr. and 
Mrs. Beck, whom Gertrude had coaxed to come, 
though they hardly ever stirred from their own 
lovely home. Young Paul was with us too, of 
course. 

Every day there was some fun on of one kind 
or another; picnics on land and water, tennis, golf 
and cricket, flirtation and serious love-making. 
The Dale emeralds arrived and were duly gloated 
over by the girls, and all went merry as a marriage 
bell until the late arrival of Colonel Winstanley. 
That was really the beginning. 

Colonel Winstanley was Cynthia’s distant cousin 
and godfather. There was some doubt as to 
whether he could tear himself away from Monte 
Carlo for the wedding, and Cynthia was in high 
delight when the wire reached to say he was com- 
ing. Indeed we were all delighted, for Winstanley 
was one of the best fellows going. A gentleman 
of the old school, he had been everywhere and seen 
everything, and could make others see with his eyes. 
Bland, courteous and kindly, with playful gossip 
for the drawing-room, and a wonderful stock of 
subtle delicate flavoured stories for the smoking- 
room, he was always king of his company wherever 
his company might happen to be. His ill luck at 
cards and on the turf was so constant as to be 


FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 


213 


proverbial, but in all England there was no more 
good-humoured loser. Finally he was the best 
golfer in England for his age. 

We expected Winstanley to dinner and waited 
a trying quarter of an hour for him. When we 
had quite abandoned hope, to every one’s amaze- 
ment he turned up about midnight. He had missed 
his train, but the plucky old chap was not to be 
beaten, so he came down in the guard’s van of a 
cattle train, and leaving his luggage at the station 
he walked across, a matter of five miles, carrying 
his wedding present in a small black bag. Five 
times he had lost his way, but he blundered in at 
last after midnight, fresh as a daisy and with a 
hearty appetite for his supper. He told us his vari- 
ous misadventures while he ate and had us all in 
a roar of laughter. Then he produced his wedding 
present from his bag and tantalised us all with a 
good look at the case. But nothing we could say 
or do would induce him to open it. The bride-elect 
had gone to bed, and the bride-elect, he insisted, 
should have the first look at his present. 

I guessed what it was, right away, for I can 
guess eggs when I see shells. 

“ It’s the Winstanley loving cup, for a thousand, 
Colonel,” I cried. “ The shape of the case is 
enough for me.” 

“ Right, my boy,” said the Colonel, and he was 
not a bit annoyed at being caught out. “ It was 
made for Henry VIII. of bigamous memory, and 
is supposed to be the finest bit of silver in Eng- 
land. It is worth its weight in gold forty times 


over. 


214 


YOUNG BECK 


“I’d sooner have the gold,” said young Roger 
Amser, “ it would melt better.” 

It may be well to say just a word or two about 
Roger Amser. He was a handsome young scape- 
grace of good family, full of fun and life, the very 
jolliest of the party, and a prime favourite of the 
men and women, especially the women. He was 
always the last in bed at night, and the first up 
in the morning. Gertrude had asked him because 
Nancy Lovel was coming, partly I think to rile the 
bitter old dowager, Lady Cardowan, Nancy Lovel’s 
aunt and guardian, who intended the pretty little 
girl and her substantial fortune for her own dis- 
sipated son, but poor Amser took little by his invi- 
tation, for Nancy was under the complete control 
of her aunt. 

The Colonel hurried off to his room after sup- 
per, leaving the rest of us to bridge or billiards, 
but before he went he insisted on placing his cup, 
still in its case, on a table in a room on the second 
floor specially reserved for the presents. 

Early next morning I was awakened by an im- 
patient knocking at my door and Gertrude’s voice 
clamouring, “ Get up, Charlie, get up at once ! 
There has been a burglary in the house and Cyn- 
thia’s wedding presents are all gone.” 

You bet I jumped into my clothes in less than 
no time, and was upstairs and in the room where 
a growing crowd was already assembled. 

Gertrude and Cynthia, rushing up early in the 
morning to see the loving cup, had discovered the 
burglary, which was clearly the job of a cool and 
discriminating thief. All the gold and jewels were 


FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 215 

gone, all the silver and china and whatnots re- 
mained. One bit of silver, indeed, seemed to 
have tempted the cupidity or artistic taste of the 
thief. The loving cup was out of its case; it had 
been lifted from the table where the Colonel placed 
it the night before, and dropped by the thief on a 
table near the door, prudence at the last moment 
triumphing over greed. 

The crowd, when I entered, was in a ferment of 
excitement, which made even the women uncon- 
scious of dishabille. One fat old dowager had put 
on her wig with its back to the front, and a society 
beauty appeared with only one side of her face 
tinted for the day’s triumphs. But they were in 
no mood to blush for themselves or laugh at their 
neighbours. Consternation at the burglar’s clean 
sweep swallowed up all other emotions, as Aaron’s 
rod swallowed up all the rods of the Egyptian im- 
postors. The room was buzzing with exclamations, 
explanations and suggestions. Every one found 
some clue of his own to explain the plunder of the 
jewels and insure the capture of the thief. 

Only three people in the crowd were silent, 
watching the scene with quiet attentive eyes that 
let no detail slip — the three Becks, father, mother 
and son. 

But it was Roger Amser who discovered the 
finger prints on the loving cup. It was Roger 
Amser who found the knotted rope hanging from 
the window, - and the double row of footprints 
stretching away to the road, and when, later on, 
his own footprints were found in a different part 
of the lawn, footprints which led to the rose garden 


2l6 


YOUNG BECK 


and were lost on the gravel walks, he had a ready 
and natural explanation. He could not sleep, he 
said, and passed out through the French window 
of his bedroom for a stroll in the moonlight. Then 
it came out a little reluctantly that after he went 
back to bed he heard a cautious footstep passing 
his door and return as silently half an hour later. 

Why did he not give the alarm? Why did he 
not open his door to see who passed ? 

He thought it was a ghost, he confessed, and 
hid his head under the clothes. He was horribly 
afraid of ghosts. It was remarked at the time as 
significant that Colonel Winstanley, whose room 
was only two doors from Amser’s, heard no foot- 
steps. 

It was Amser, as I have said, who found the 
double track of boot marks leading from the win- 
dow to the public road about a quarter of a mile 
away, but it was young Beck who traced them along 
the road for about half a mile until they suddenly 
disappeared. He found it quite an easy job, he told 
me afterwards, as the burglar evidently made no 
effort to cover his trail. 

Beck, beating about the place where the track 
vanished, with head close to the ground like a 
hound that has lost scent, made an important dis- 
covery. Buried close under the wall that fenced 
the road and covered with a large flat stone he 
found a pair of coarse strong boots and a very 
complete and interesting burglar’s outfit. 

This treasure-trove naturally created great ex- 
citement. The boots fitted the tracks on the lawn, 
and the tools indicated the work of a professional, 


FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 217 

To the burglar’s outfit no clue could be found 
either then or afterwards, but on the tags of the 
boots, which were almost new, was found the name 
of a shop in London where they were bought, and 
enquiry elicited very interesting information from 
the shopkeeper’s assistant. 

Just two days before the burglary the boots were 
bought for cash by a man who directed them to be 
sent to his lodgings in Seven Dials. The shop 
assistant remembered the man minutely, a big 
coarse man with a front tooth gone and a red scar 
over his eyebrow. The description fitted like a 
glove the notorious Simon Crackshaw, who had 
emerged from jail only a week before on comple- 
tion of a stretch of five years for a daring burglary, 
and who had apparently lost no time about getting 
back to work again. When the finger and thumb 
marks were examined in the investigation depart- 
ment and found identical with those of the burglar, 
that had been taken when he was last in prison, 
doubt passed to certainty. 

The hue and cry was started at once. Portraits 
of Crackshaw were everywhere, in the widest cir- 
culating London dailies, on the dead walls and 
hoardings, with a tempting notice attached offering 
£500 for such information as might lead to his 
arrest. His haunts were searched by the police, 
and traps were set in the public houses he favoured 
in his brief interludes of liberty, but all to no pur- 
pose. The substantial Crackshaw had vanished 
into thin air and left not a trace behind. 

At this time, as may be imagined, the excitement 
amongst the wedding guests was intense, and every 


2l8 


YOUNG BECK 


day increasing in intensity. Nothing was talked 
of or thought of but the burglary. The papers 
were pounced on as they arrived from London and 
a dash made for the standing heading, “ THE 
MYSTERIOUS BURGLARY,” to the neglect of 
all other news. All amusements, except love- 
making, were abandoned for the fascinating pur- 
suit of the amateur detective. The craze took 
different people in different ways. Some, like Von 
Molke, pondered over the problem in their rooms, 
reconstructing the crime (that was the great 
phrase), in their analytic minds. Others pursued 
it in the fields, diligently hunting for clues. These 
latter generally went in pairs — “ mixed lone- 
somes ” — they were called, and in the pretty 
woods and dells with which the grounds abounded, 
and by the mossy margins of the trout streams it 
is to be feared that they occasionally allowed their 
minds to be distracted from the important business 
in hand. 

Old Colonel Winstanley was in great request 
because he had actually seen and spoken to the 
redoubtable Crackshaw. Not only was he one of 
the magistrates who committed him for trial for 
his last burglary, but he had visited him in prison 
and was present at his trial from start to finish. 

“ One of the rqost remarkable men I ever met,” 
the Colonel told me, “ a man of infinite courage, 
cunning, and resource. As a soldier he would have 
gone far. I had a talk with him in prison, sir, and 
offered him a chance when he came out, but I found 
him quite satisfied with his career, and what’s more, 
proud of it. ‘ Bless yer innercent heart, gov’nor/ 


FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 219 

he said, ‘ Pm not down-hearted. I can do this little 
stretch on my blooming nut. I’ll have time to think 
out things in my study with nothing to disturb me, 
and I’ll be up to a new trick or two when I come 
out. Keep your eye close on your plate chest when 
my time is up ; I wouldn’t be surprised if I was to 
pay you a short visit jest for old friendship’s sake.’ ” 

In the detective race Roger Amser and young 
Paul were first favourites, and the betting was even 
between them. I backed Amser, for a dozen pairs 
of gloves with Miss Glenmore, who had been in- 
duced to come with her mother for a week end, 
and I went up next morning to London to buy a 
dozen pairs of sixes in case of accidents. 

From the first Amser made no secret of his be- 
lief that the theft had been committed by a guest 
in the house, by the guest whose foot he had heard 
going past his door on the morning of the “ bur- 
glary.” Colonel Winstanley, on the other hand, 
laughed at the notion. He pinned his faith to his 
friend Crackshaw. 

“ The fellow is a miracle,” he said. “ Alone he 
did it. If you saw him you could never doubt it.” 

Beck said nothing. 

About a week after the burglary a curious little 
incident occurred. Something or another brought 
Winstanley to Amser’s dressing-room one morning 
just before breakfast, and on the table he noticed 
a little diamond brooch shaped like a butterfly. It 
struck the Colonel, who had a quick eye for jewels, 
that it was very like one he had seen on the night 
he went to put the loving cup among the presents. 
Amser, when he spoke to him, laughed at the no- 


220 YOUNG BECK 

tion, and they agreed to have the verdict of Cynthia 
on the point. 

Without a moment’s hesitation she recognised 
the brooch. 

“ Of course I know it,” she said. “ It was sent 
to me by a dear friend in France. You need not 
look like that, godfather, it was a girl friend. I 
thought it the prettiest brooch of the lot. No, I 
couldn’t possibly be mistaken.” 

At that it was as the Yankees say “ up to ” Am- 
ser to say how he had come by the brooch. The 
Colonel delicately hinted as much, but Amser re- 
fused point blank. He couldn’t tell, he said, for 
it wasn’t his own secret. When the Colonel pressed 
him he turned on him fiercely. Did he mean to 
suggest, he demanded, that he was the thief. If 
so he had best speak out and he would know how 
to deal with the charge. 

The thing came to my ears through Cynthia. It 
is only fair to say that she hadn’t the faintest sus- 
picion that Amser, who was a pet of hers, was 
implicated in the theft. She thought, as she naively 
put it, if he would only tell where the brooch was 
found something else might be found in the same 
place. 

Poor Amser was by no means as rampageous 
with me as he had been at the first blush with the 
Colonel. I suppose time had brought wisdom, but 
he was as obstinate as ever to retain his secret. 

“ It’s no use, Charlie,” he said. “ I don’t know 
whether you will still let me call you Charlie, you 
may think me a low down thief if you like, you may 
kick me out of the house if you like, and send for 


FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 221 


the police, but I simply can’t tell. It isn’t that I 
won’t but I can’t. You would think the same if 
you only knew, but what is the use when you can’t 
know? ” 

I confess I was puzzled. The thing was queer 
any way you looked at it. But in spite of myself 
I could not help believing Amser, and I was aw- 
fully glad when Beck, when I told him, advised me 
to lie low and say nothing. 

I suppose Cynthia talked, though I dare swear 
she meant no harm. I could notice on all sides that 
the cold shoulder was politely offered to poor Am- 
ser. Often when two or three people were to- 
gether they stopped talking suddenly when he came 
up and became red in the face. He could not help 
noticing but he stuck it out pluckily until one eve- 
ning the smouldering bomb burst. 

There were about a score of people in the draw- 
ing-room playing bridge. Amser had been com- 
mandeered to make a fourth at a table with Lady 
Cardowan, with whom no one cared particularly to 
play. As dealer he went diamonds and Lady Car- 
dowan doubled on strong outside cards. He made 
grand slam with eight trumps and five honours in 
his own hand. Her ladyship had a sharp tongue 
and knew how to use it. At the best she was never 
sweet tempered at cards, but this tragedy was en- 
tirely too much for her temper. 

“ I congratulate you, Mr. Amser,” she said in a 
voice that might be heard three tables off. “ You 
are wonderfully lucky in diamonds. I don’t know 
how you find them to hand so conveniently.” 

There was no mistaking her meaning. Almost 


222 


YOUNG BECK 


every one in the room had heard the whispered 
story of the brooch and bedroom. A sudden hush 
quenched the chit chat of the other tables, as the 
shadow of a hawk silences the twitter of the song 
birds. Not a card was played. There was a long 
awkward silence while the players looked at each 
other not knowing what to think or say. 

Then a man arose so awkwardly that his chair 
fell with a crash. I knew him for a decent straight 
fellow and a great pal of Amser’s. 

“ Straight talk is best, Lady Cardowan,” he said. 
“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ My meaning is plain enough,” she answered 
icily, though I could see she was a bit frightened 
at having gone so far. “ Mr. Amser was found 
in possession of a diamond brooch that was stolen 
and cannot or will not tell how he came by it.” 

“ But I can tell, I can tell.” 

It was a shrill girl’s voice that spoke, and shy lit- 
tle Nancy Lovel flung herself boldly into the centre 
of the group. She was as pale as death and her blue 
eyes looked black in the whiteness of her face, but 
she faced the formidable Lady Cardowan un- 
daunted. 

“ I can tell,” she cried again a third time. “ I 
found it on the path of the rose garden when we 
were walking there one night together. I saw it 
glitter in the moonlight and I picked it up. Yes, 
aunt, we were walking together, you need not look 
like that. We are engaged and I was walking with 
him, too, the night the things were stolen, and he 
wouldn’t tell for my sake. He is worth the whole 
lot of you put together, and you, you wicked old 


FINGER MARKS ON THE CUP 223 

woman, you ought to be ashamed of your- 
self.” 

With this last audacious fling at Lady Car- 
dowan, she walked boldly across the room and 
stood beside her lover. If ever I saw adoration 
in a man’s eyes it was in Roger Amser’s then. 

Colonel Winstanley was the first to break the 
silence with stately old-fashioned dignity. “ We 
all owe an apology to Mr. Amser,” he said, “ who 
have wronged his honour even by a doubt. I am 
glad to be the first to make it.” 

There was a general murmur of apology, but 
Lady Cardowan sat in ungracious silence. Amser 
bowed his acknowledgments, a little coldly, I 
thought, and left the room with Nancy Lovel. 

Two or three days later he left the house, cut- 
ting short his visit by a week. “ I would give my 
right eye to catch the thief,” he said to Beck and 
myself as he shook hands at parting. “ I shall be 
under a cloud until he is caught.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE ALIBI 

All this time the two people most concerned 
seemed to take the least interest in the business. 
Cynthia and Colthurst were as gay as thrushes on 
a cherry tree on the rare occasions anybody caught 
sight of them. 

“ That’s all very well,” commented Gertrude, 
with the wisdom of her sex, “ but wait until the 
honeymoon is over and the bridal parties begin, and 
she’ll break her heart about the Dale emeralds.” 

With a great deal of manoeuvring she managed 
to get the three Becks and myself together in the 
library and inaugurated a cabinet council on the 
burglary. 

“Whom do you suspect, Mr. Beck?” she asked 
old Paul abruptly. 

“ My dear young lady,” he said, with that slow, 
wise smile of his, “ I never suspect anybody.” 

“ It must have been that man, Crackshaw,” she 
persisted, “ else how could the marks of his fingers 
and thumb get on Colonel Winstanley’s loving 
cup?” 

“ I think I remember once,” I said to old Paul, 
“ long before I had the pleasure of knowing you 
personally, reading a case of yours in which the 


THE ALIBI 


225 


famous Baffles imitated the finger marks of an 
absent burglar with india-rubber gloves. I thought 
it very ingenious at the time. Could these marks 
by any chance have been made in the same 
way ? ” 

“ No,” he said decisively, “ I have examined 
them under the microscope. There are a score of 
proofs that they were made by the burglar in per- 
son. For one thing I found traces of blood, human 
blood or monkey’s. No monkey has turned up in 
a burglary since the mystery of the Rue Morgue, 
so it must be a man.” 

“ But why should a man make those impres- 
sions with his cut finger? Wouldn’t he tie up the 
cut?” 

“ Unless he needed the blood to make them per- 
fectly plain and unmistakable,” suggested old Beck. 

“ You think, sir, that ” young Paul asked 

eagerly. 

But Gertrude broke in impatiently before old 
Paul could reply. 

“ You are only laughing at me, and I want to 
talk sense. If Crackshaw in the flesh, as Mr. Beck 
says, made those marks, Crackshaw must plainly 
be the man who stole the jewels. The first thing 
is to catch Crackshaw.” 

“ Unless he is already caught,” put in Mrs. Beck. 

“ But if he is caught where is he? ” queried Ger- 
trude, hopelessly bewildered. 

“ That is the real question we must answer,” 
said Mrs. Beck, speaking to us but with her bright 
eyes fixed on her son. “ If you read detective 
stories, Lady Gertrude, you will read in one of 


226 


YOUNG BECK 


Gaboriau’s that the ingenious criminal always pro- 
vides a strong alibi.” 

“ But the alibi is to prove that he wasn’t there, 
isn’t it? ” objected Gertrude. “ How can he prove 
he wasn’t there when he was ? ” 

“ That is the very puzzle we must solve,” said 
Mrs. Beck, her gaze still on her son. 

I saw young Paul’s eyes suddenly light up. 

“ So that was it,” he said slowly, “ ’pon my soul 
I believe you are right, little mother, you are always 
right. A devilish smart trick, too! I’m off to 
London to-morrow. I fancy the fox is hiding in 
the dog’s kennel.” 

Mrs. Beck nodded brightly. 

“ You will drive me mad between you,” cried 
Gertrude, with comical petulance. “ Pray, what are 
you going to do in London, Mr. Beck? ” 

“ Look around me,” said Paul. “ Can you come, 
Charlie?” he added to me. “Can you get away 
for a few days? I think I am beginning to see 
light.” 

It was a bit of a grind getting away from a 
houseful of guests who, I verily believe, would have 
followed us hot foot in an excited procession to 
London if they had had the least notion of what we 
were after, but Gertrude managed it for us on the 
faithful promise that she should have the first news. 

Beck’s first draw was the lodgings of William 
Watson, alias Simon Crackshaw, in Seven Dials. 
Rather to his surprise, I think, he found the lodg- 
ing-house clean and respectable, and the landlady a 
decent, middle-aged Irish woman, every feature of 
whose good-looking, good-humoured face denied 


THE ALIBI 


227 

any sympathy with crime. She was quite willing 
to tell us all she knew and plainly she enjoyed the 
mystery and loved to talk of the vanished Watson. 

“ I never laid eyes on him,” she told us, “ until 
he came after the room. A big powerful man, 
dressed like a sailor, with a grin on his face as if 
he were having some sort of a joke with himself. 
Sorra a handful of baggage he had with him,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Maloney ; “ but he paid a fortnight’s 
rent in advance like a man. Faix, I remember well, 
he took out a bundle of new five pound notes, and 
laid one down forninst me and asked me for change. 
4 There’s more where that came from, me dear,’ he 
says. He had his bit of dinner in the kitchen that 
night and not one thing with it but a quart of 
porter. Shortly after that he went off with him- 
self carrying a pair of boots that came for him 
under his arm, and from that blessed moment I 
never seen sight nor light of him.” 

She showed us the poor, clean little bedroom that 
had been scrupulously reserved for the departed 
lodger. The man had only been in it a moment 
to settle his tie at a scrap of looking-glass. The 
room told us nothing. 

“ A blank draw,” I said, as we got into the street ; 
“ the fox has gone to earth.” 

“ We’ll dig him out,” retorted Beck. “ Let us 
have a good dinner somewhere, for there is no 
more to be done to-night, and we have a hard day’s 
work before us to-morrow and for some days to 
come, unless luck lightens the job for us.” 

Starting early next morning in company with an 
inspector we made a round of the police stations in 


228 


YOUNG BECK 


London, and were allowed to examine the charge 
sheets for the 17th of May, the day before the bur- 
glary. The fourth try we got on his track. There 
it was in the big, sprawling hand of the police ser- 
geant, the short and simple annals of “ William 
Watson, sailor, drunk and disorderly and creating 
an obstruction in the street.” The convictions at 
Westminster Police Court next morning completed 
the story. Fined a pound with the option of a fort- 
night’s imprisonment. 

“ He took the jail,” said Paul confidently. 

Eager as a hound on hot scent, he carried me 
straight for Wormwood Scrubs, and five minutes 
later we were in the cell of the redoubtable Watson, 
alias Crackshaw. 

“ Rum cove,” the warder whispered to us as we 
walked down the echoing flagged corridor. “ I 
can’t make him out. He is in the best of spirits 
and full of his jokes, says he is cummin’ into his 
fortin when he gits out, and that he is heir in law 
to a first-class aristocrat.” 

William Watson was at home. He received us 
sitting on his low bed, nodded familiarly to the 
warder and grinned graciously at us. His burly 
frame looked huge in the tight-fitting uniform. 

“ Welcome, gents,” he said. “ To tell yer the 
truth Pm a bit tired of my own company. Won’t 
yer interjuce us,” — this to the warder, — “ oh, 
very well, please yourself, yer welcome anyways. 
William Watson at yer service. What will yer 
have to drink? ” 

“ Nonsense,” said Beck sharply, “ we know you 
are Simon Crackshaw.” 


THE ALIBI 


229 


The big man grinned. 

“ Have it yer own way, gov’nor. It’s a pity a 
poor man won’t be let have an incog, as well as 
his betters. The king himself don’t always go by 
his own name, I’m told. What could Simon Crack- 
shaw do for yer supposin’ for a moment I was 
him? ” 

“ You are wanted for a burglary at Kirwood 
Castle.” 

There was no sign of alarm on the broad, coarse 
face, only amusement. Crackshaw grinned like a 
man relishing a first-class practical joke. 

“ Indeed, now, that’s queer ! I never heard tell 
of the place in my life, much less saw it.” 

“ The marks of your fingers and thumb were 
found on a silver cup.” 

Watson, or Crackshaw, chuckled hoarsely. 

“ When did yer say, mister, that the burglary 
was committed ? ” 

“ The eighteenth of May.” 

I thought Beck was a bit previous in giving away 
the case but I did not like to interfere. Crackshaw 
turned to the warder. 

“ When did I come on this little visit? ” 

“ The seventeenth of May,” said the warder. 

“ And I haven’t been out much since, have I ? ” 

“ Not to my knowledge,” said the warder, in 
grim appreciation of the joke. 

The burly ruffian turned again to Beck in mock 
indignation. 

“ I always said those marks were most deceitful. 
I said it in my last trial but the judge wouldn’t 
believe me, but gave me five years instead, so he 


230 


YOUNG BECK 


did; he knows better I hope by now. I tell you 
what, mates, I’ll come on the government for com- 
pensation. I’ll write to the Times about it, see if 
I don’t ! ” He clattered his big feet delightedly on 
the stone floor of his cell. 

“ Wish you luck, Mr. Crackshaw,” said Beck 
good-humouredly. “You are a clever chap, and 
you have a clever friend.” 

“ Thank you kindly,” said the prisoner affably, 
and the closing door framed the same bulldog grin 
on his formidable face. 

“ Rum go, sir,” said the warder, between whom 
and Beck a sovereign had unostentatiously passed. 
“ Is it sure the marks are his ? ” 

“ Quite sure,” Beck replied. “ By the way, 
warder, when does he get out? ” 

“ To-morrow, sir, at twelve.” 

“ When does he meet his aristocrat, did he hap- 
pen to tell you? ” 

“ The evening he goes out, sir. He lets on the 
other is dying to meet him.” 

“ I should like to see him off the premises, with- 
out his seeing me, of course. I want to make the 
acquaintance of this interesting aristocrat. Do you 
think it could be managed ? ” 

“ Quite easy, sir,” said the smiling warder, who 
doubtless saw another tip looming in the distance. 

The next day Beck started alone for the jail. 
“ When the game is very wary,” he explained, “ it 
is sometimes prudent to tie up one of the dogs.” 

He returned to lunch in excellent humour, I 
have seldom seen him so exultant. “ Now, by St. 
Paul, the work goes bravely on,” he exclaimed 


THE ALIBI 


231 

dramatically when we met. “ By the way, Charlie, 
I ran across Colonel Winstanley and young Amser, 
and I asked them to dine with us at the Carlton. 
I fancy old Winstanley can help us in the quest if 
he cares to.” 

We had a most enjoyable dinner. Amser seemed 
a bit down in his luck, but Colonel Winstanley was 
in great form until some one, I forget who, men- 
tioned the burglary. He stopped short with a ges- 
ture of comical horror. 

“ Not a word more,” he pleaded, “ not a word 
more of it if you love me. The confounded bur- 
glary drove me from your hospitable mansion, 
Kirwood, a perfect wreck in body and mind. We 
had burglary for breakfast, dinner, supper, and 
afternoon tea. We thought burglars, we talked 
burglars, we ate, we drank, we dreamed burglars. 
Another week of it and I should have gone mad. 
Amser and myself are flying to the hospitable 
shores of France. We start in the morning for 
Paris.” 

“ By Jove,” cried Beck, “ that’s curious ! Kir- 
wood and I go too; we will be across together.” 

It was the first I heard of it, and I had hard work 
to hide my surprise while Beck enlarged on the 
strangeness of the coincidence. I noticed young 
Amser talked little, little at least for him, and 
drank a good deal. I fancied he was chagrined 
at having so signally disappointed his admirers by 
failing to find the mysterious burglar. “ Any clue, 
old chap ? ” I heard him say to Beck, who shook 
his head despondently. 

We went down in the train together to Dover, 


YOUNG BECK 


232 

and found a nasty cross wind in the Channel rais- 
ing a choppy sea. Amser went below right away. 

“ I’m the deuce of a bad sailor,” he explained. 
“ I’m always seasick unless I cover up my head and 
lie still.” 

“ You employ the same tactics with ghosts, I 
remember,” said Beck laughingly, and Amser 
grinned feebly back at him over his shoulder, and 
darted downstairs for his cabin. 

Colonel Winstanley, Beck and myself made our- 
selves comfortable on deck chairs. Everything 
about the Colonel indicated the experienced trav- 
eller. He had the best corner of the deck on the 
lee side of the boat, sheltered from the wind but 
with a wide look out over the tossing and sparkling 
sea. His feet and legs were comfortably encased 
in a rug, bagged at the end and lined with fur. 
The fragrant blue smoke of his cigar was very 
pleasant on the sharp air, and a small black bag, 
with a friendly flask in it, as I guessed, stood con- 
venient to his hand. Beck found seats for both of 
us beside the Colonel, and to my amazement started 
off at once on the subject of the burglary. 

“ If you don’t mind me bothering you, Colonel,” 
he said, “ I should like to have your notion of the 
business. I want to see my way, and I fancy you 
can help me.” 

“ My dear boy,” the Colonel answered heartily, 
“ fire away. You may count on me to do what I 
can. You mustn’t mind the nonsense I talked at 
dinner last night, it was more on Amser’s account 
than my own. The wretched boy is bored to death 
with the business, for they gave him no peace. I 


THE ALIBI 


233 

am very interested, naturally, and I will give what 
help I can to get my goddaughter back her trin- 
kets. Have a cigar ? ” 

“ Thanks, no. Somehow I felt certain you would 
be interested. Well, to begin with Eve found 
Crackshaw.” 

“ The devil you have. Then it’s all over except 
the shouting. The finger marks, the boots, and all 
the rest of it must nail him.” 

“ They would but for one thing. Crackshaw was 
undoubtedly in jail when the burglary was com- 
mitted.” 

There was no mistaking the surprise on the 
Colonel’s face at the news. The cigar dropped 
from his lips, and for a full minute he stared 
blankly at Beck. 

“ But, my dear fellow,” he said at last, “ how can 
that be? The fellow could not be in two places at 
once.” 

“ I have a notion,” said Beck, “ how it was man- 
aged. Crackshaw plainly went to jail on purpose, 
he was preparing his alibi. He made the marks 
before he was jailed. It is easy to imagine he had 
an accomplice who stood, so to speak, in his shoes. 
It was a neat trick. Crackshaw was to be the scape- 
goat. No one would suspect the real thief; when 
Crackshaw was discovered at last the prison au- 
thorities themselves would supply him with a con- 
clusive alibi.” 

“ Ingenious, very,” murmured the Colonel as the 
plot dawned on him, “ and very ingenious of you, 
my dear young friend, to figure it out as you did. 
Whom do you suspect ? ” 


234 


YOUNG BECK 


“ I’m afraid,” said Beck gravely, “ it must have 
been one of the guests. The rope was hung, the 
tracks made and the boots and burglar’s tools hid- 
den merely as a blind. You remember the foot- 
steps young Amser said he heard go by his 
room? ” 

“ I remember,” said the Colonel, with a faint 
smile. “ He covered his head up with the clothes, 
thinking it was a ghost.” Then, with a sudden 
change of manner as if a new light had broken in 
on him, “ Good gracious, man, you don’t mean to 
say you suspect young Amser ! ” 

“ I never suspect, Colonel, I make quite sure if 
I can,” said Beck. “ I forgot to tell you that while 
Crackshaw was in prison he bragged a bit to the 
warder of an aristocratic friend, who, he said, 
would make him heir at law. He was to meet the 
aristocrat the day he came out of prison. I knew 
the man, whoever he was, must wait in London 
until the day of Crackshaw’s release to share the 
spoils, and I thought it would be interesting to hang 
round and watch the meeting.” 

“Well?” There could be no doubt of the 
Colonel’s interest now. He jerked the monosyllable 
at Beck. 

“ Well,” said Beck slowly, “ when I saw him call 
at the house of one of the guests, and when I saw 
him come down the steps half an hour later with 
his pockets bulging and a broad smile on his bull- 
dog face, I could make a fair guess what had hap- 
pened inside.” 

“ So you concluded,” the Colonel began in a 
strange hoarse whisper, which I would never have 


THE ALIBI 


235 

recognised as his — he paused, and Beck took him 
up. 

“ That the man who got Crackshaw to put his 
finger marks on the loving cup was the man who 
stole the jewels.” 

For a moment no one spoke. As in a dream I 
saw the sunshine in dazzling points of light on the 
wide stretch of sea, I heard the ripple of the water 
against the boat’s side, the swish of skirts and the 
murmur of talk on deck. But all the time my atten- 
tion was absorbed in the tense excitement of the 
drama enacted before my eyes. 

The Colonel was pale and rigid. His eyes only 
seemed alive, and they were fixed intently on Beck. 
I saw his right hand begin to move, and I feared a 
hidden weapon. Beck made no sign. Slowly the 
Colonel’s hand slid down on the deck and came up 
with a jerk, holding the black bag in act to throw. 
But quick as he was Beck was too quick for him. 
Like the sudden pounce of a hawk his hand gripped 
the Colonel’s wrist, and the black bag fell back on 
deck. 

“ It would be a pity,” said Beck, as he picked it 
up, “ that Miss Dale’s trinkets should be lost at sea.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


death’s threshold 

I don’t like bringing myself or my love affairs 
more than I can help into my story. I am aware I 
did not come very well out of the first entangle- 
ment. But it may be as well to mention openly 
what my sister hinted at, covertly, that I was gone 
on the great actress, Margery Glenmore, though I 
cannot say she cared two straws for me. To be 
quite candid my heart was more or less occupied 
with other girls after the pretty Lilian was evicted 
and before Margery Glenmore came into possession. 
Amongst the weekly or monthly tenants of my 
heart was my distant cousin, Elinor Gibson, whom 
I had lost sight of for a year, until I met her again 
one September morning in the Green Park. 

If it were not for Beck I should not be alive to 
tell this story; whether it is worth telling or not is 
another question, although naturally it is very inter- 
esting to me. 

When I met Elinor that morning it was the first 
time I had seen her as “ Nurse Gibson,” and the 
ghost of a palpitation began to flutter in my heart, 
for she looked so charming in her dark blue uni- 
form with white collar and cuffs. 

Beyond all doubt Elinor Gibson was a splendid 


DEATH’S THRESHOLD 


237 

woman, physically, mentally and morally. Other 
girls would have crumpled up and gone over in the 
sea of troubles she had tided over serenely. When 
her father died she was supposed to be an heiress, 
but found herself a good deal closer to being a 
pauper. At once she took her life and fortune into 
her own hands. Now she was a nurse and meant 
to be a doctor, and no one could fill the double bill 
better. Strong, patient, clever, good-humoured, 
never tired, never cross, she was like sunshine in a 
sick-room. 

As a prospective heiress she was an imperious 
beauty, and had a way of ordering about which I 
rather enjoyed. Later on, after the crash, she went 
abroad with a consumptive patient, and so we had 
completely lost sight of each other for a time. She 
was passing me by in the park without seeing me 
when I called to her : 

“ Hallo, Nellie, where have you been? You are 
looking lovelier than ever.” 

That was no lie for she did look stunning. The 
walk had brought a warm pink into the smooth 
cheek, and there was a light in her eyes, warm and 
sparkling, which I flattered myself was pleasure at 
meeting me. 

“ I should ask that question/’ she retorted, 
smiling, as we shook hands. “ What have you been 
doing? Mischief I dare say.” 

“ Pining, broken-hearted,” I said. “ Love is the 
mischief, you know, but there is no use complain- 
ing. The winter of my discontent is made glorious 
summer by the sight of you. Are you on for the 
theatre to-night, young woman? His Majesty’s 


YOUNG BECK 


238 

and supper afterwards at the Carlton. It’s a long 
time since you and I had a spree together.” 

She thought for a moment, looking tall and 
strong with ruddy tinted cheeks, and hair and eyes 
shining in the bright September sunshine. 

“ It’s this way,” she said at last. “ I’m Dr. 
Strong’s head nurse. You must have heard of Dr. 
Strong, the great bacteriologist and fever specialist.” 

“ Is that the chap that says we would live for ever 
only for the microbes? ” 

Elinor nodded. “ That’s so, and quite right, too. 
I am his right hand woman in the hospital, and have 
ten other nurses under me. I am very much my own 
mistress, and can take a day or a night off whenever 
I want to, but we are very busy now and are getting 
a new nurse, Gray is her name, in to-night, so you 
must not tempt me.” 

“ That means you will come.” 

“ Well, I suppose it does. I cannot resist the 
chance of a talk about old times. If you’ll call for 
me at half-past seven I’ll be ready. I have a bach- 
elor woman’s flat in 15 Cheyny Row, Chelsea.” 

When I called she was ready; I never knew 
Elinor to be a moment late for anything. She 
stepped out gaily across the threshold the moment 
I knocked, and off we went together in a taxi. 

There is no need for a fellow to be in love to find 
it very pleasant to have an evening out with a girl 
so handsome, fascinating and clever to talk to. 
There was a new play at His Majesty’s called Lady 
Averley’s Lover, with lots of love-making and I 
was just in the humour for love-making. 

I was rather set back, I confess, when I saw my 


DEATH’S THRESHOLD 


239 

cousin, Captain Cunningham-Bayard, in the box 
right opposite with little Mrs. Nugent. The Cap- 
tain is my first cousin, and would come in for the 
title and property should anything happen to me. 
There was hardly a more popular man in the Guards 
than he was, hardly a more popular man in London 
both with men and women, especially with women, 
a splendid cut of a man, six feet two in his stock- 
ings, with the figure of a Greek athlete and a face to 
match. Nobody called the Captain clever, but every- 
body called him bright, good-humoured, and no- 
body’s enemy but his own. He had seen sharp 
service before he went into the Guards, and had 
won the supreme prize of valour, the Victoria Cross. 

It was not the Captain but Mrs. Nevil Nugent 
who first discovered us. I noticed a pair of glasses 
fixed on my face where I sat back in the box, and 
returning the stare I found Mrs. Nugent. The in- 
stant her face came into the field of glasses she 
bowed and smiled, as if we were only a couple of 
yards distant, though the whole width of the theatre 
was between us. 

The situation was a bit embarrassing for I had 
had a much warmer flirtation with Mrs. Nevil 
Nugent than I had ever had with Nurse Gibson. 
She was a widow whose husband was supposed to 
have died in India. No one knew when he died or 
what he died of, no one knew her income or where 
it came from, but certainly she lived up to it. She 
was more popular with men than with women, but 
the women were civil to her for the men’s sake, and 
she was to be met, on and off, at the very best coun- 
try places. But she was chiefly famous for her 


240 


YOUNG BECK 


dainty little dinners, never less than three, never 
more than nine, with good music and mild gambling 
to follow. 

I suppose I had made a bit of an ass of myself 
with Mrs. Nugent, but I never meant anything and 
I never pretended to her I meant anything. The 
thought of marrying her never entered my mind un- 
til one day in one of the society papers there was a 
pretty broad hint that we were engaged. Then I 
cooled down and came out as quickly and as de- 
cently as I could. I had not seen her for some time, 
as she was a hot tempered little woman, and I was 
not quite easy in my mind how she would meet me. 

When the curtain fell on the second act of the 
play my cousin came across to our box and tapped 
to get in. If it were any one else I might have been 
a bit annoyed at the interruption, but no one ever is, 
or could be, annoyed with Bayard. 

I introduced him to cousin Elinor, whose cheeks 
flushed softly as their eyes met. Bayard’s good 
looks are irresistible. I can’t say I felt particularly 
pleased. 

“ What are you doing after the theatre, Charlie? ” 
he asked genially. “ We are going to have a bit of 
supper at the Carlton, shall we make a table of 
four? ” 

“ Of five, if you please,” I said. “ A friend of 
mine, Paul Beck, is to meet us there; he couldn’t 
come with us to-night.” 

“ And wasn’t much wanted, I fancy,” laughed 
Bayard, with an admiring glance at the blushing 
Elinor. “ We’ll meet at the door, then,” he added, 
“ and drive over together. Mrs. Nugent says you 


DEATH’S THRESHOLD 


241 


(treated her shamefully. You can make it up at 
supper while Miss Gibson looks after poor me.” 

Beck was a few minutes lata when we reached the 
supper room, and we waited for him. Mrs. Nugent 
had captured me forthwith without resistance, and 
turned Elinor over to Bayard. Never were two 
beautiful women in more striking contrast. The 
little widow was a rich brunette, dark as the nurse 
was fair, but beautifully made, with dusky damask 
cheeks, black eyes and hair, and a faint dark shade 
over her upper lip. 

“ I was longing to have a word with you,” she 
whispered, as we stood waiting for Beck. “ Why 
have you deserted me? I thought ” 

But at that moment Beck came up with apologies. 
We sat down to a small round table, and the talk 
became general. 

“ What shall we have ? ” I asked, taking up the 
menu. 

“ Oysters, anyway, to begin with,” said Bayard. 

“ But oysters mean typhoid,” protested Mrs. Nevil 
Nugent, with a fascinating little shudder, “ and I’m 
horribly afraid of sickness.” 

“ Nonsense, little lady,” he returned, “ these are 
Red Bank oysters from Ireland. They came out of 
the middle of the Atlantic, and there never was a 
microbe within a hundred miles of them.” 

“ What do you say, Elinor? ” I asked. “ You’re 
a microbe expert.” 

“ I vote for oysters,” Elinor said, and oysters 
were ordered. 

I’m not going to describe the supper. Amid the 
lively throng in that brightly-lighted, flower-be- 


242 


YOUNG BECK 


decked hall, where the music played a soft second to 
the talk, there was no gayer party than ours. Elinor 
sat on one side of me and Mrs. Nugent on the other, 
Captain Bayard sat next Elinor, and Beck opposite 
me made up the circle. 

The oysters were followed by dressed crab a la 
Morgan, hissing hot in their own shells. The ladies 
had softly foaming Moselle with the faint bouquet 
of muscatel, and fhe men double extra dry cham- 
pagne with as much and as little flavour as soda 
water. The talk was mere gay nonsense, chatter for 
the most part, but now and again Mrs. Nugent 
whispered soft reproaches for my neglect which I 
found it difficult to parry. To me, at least, the break 
up of the party came rather as a relief. Beck and 
I strolling home together with cigars alight through 
the lamp-lit streets, had little notion that the curtain 
had rung down on the first act of a tragedy. 

About a fortnight later my sister and I were 
dining alone. The governor, who had been over- 
worked, had been ordered off for a long sea voyage 
during the recess. For a day or two before I had 
been feeling a bit seedy, dull headachy, and low- 
spirited, — I, who had never been ill in my life be- 
fore. Gertrude was quick to notice it. 

“ What’s the matter, Charlie ? ” she said, when we 
got to the drawing-room. “ You neither eat, drink, 
nor talk for the last few days, but sit like a ‘ merry- 
man moping mum, who drinks no drop and who 
craves no crumb.’ Are you by any chance in love? ” 

“ Nothing to talk of, I feel a bit hipped, that’s all. 
Sing me something.” 

She sang me that song of Gilbert and Sullivan’s, 


243 


DEATH’S THRESHOLD 

the best thing, they say themselves, that they ever 
wrote. I leant over her while I sang, and I felt I 
could not stand without leaning on the piano. 

I don’t know whether I should mention such a 
trifle, but it may make clearer what happened later. 
As she sang I noticed the sweetest, purest scent of 
roses. 

“ What is the perfume, Gerty?” I asked. 
“ Where have you got it? ” 

“ Attar of roses,” she replied smiling, “the 
sweetest perfume in the wide world and about the 
dearest. 


“ ‘ The odours of a crimson wilderness, 

The breath of myriad roses men combine 
In one sweet essence.’ 

You know the lines of course. Half a drop fills the 
room with it. Just look at that.” 

“ That ” was a tiny trinket shaped somewhat like 
the feeder of a fountain pen, only ever so much 
shorter, not quite an inch in length, I should say. 
The bulb was shiny black rubber, and the shanklet 
fine gold terminating in a rather sharp point. 

“ The newest toy in scent bottles. You carry it 
on your chain or in your glove. There is no trouble 
with a stopper and no fear it will spill. Hold your 
hand.” 

She squeezed the bulb, a tiny amber-coloured bead 
showed itself at the point and dropped into my 
open palm. It was as sweet as the scent of a rose 
garden in full bloom. 

During the terrible weeks that followed, weeks 
of pain, delirium, and utter lassitude,, the sweet 


244 


YOUNG BECK 


perfume of the roses was vaguely with me, min- 
gling strangely with my dreams, full of bewildering 
associations that seemed to elude my feeble ques- 
tioning. 

For the next morning an unmistakable fever de- 
clared itself. Dr. Strong, who was sent for in hot 
haste, hunted for and found the one or two insig- 
nificant little brown specks which tell the expert that 
the deadly microbe of typhoid is at work. 

There was a stand up fight between Gertrude and 
the doctor about the nursing. Of course I did not 
know this at the time, but afterwards they told me. 
Dr. Strong wanted to send straight off for Nurse 
Gibson to look after me. “ She is the best nurse 
in the world, Lady Gertrude,” he said, “ what she 
does not know about fever is not worth knowing.” 

It was no use. Dear old Gertrude, God bless her, 
wouldn’t have any one. 

“ I couldn’t bear it, doctor, while I am here to 
nurse him. You don’t know what Charlie and I 
are to each other. If you tell me what to do I’ll 
do it, never fear. Just give me a trial, that’s all I 
ask. If you are not satisfied you may send for your 
Nurse Gibson or nurse anything else you like.” 

It is not easy to refuse Gertrude when she sets 
her heart on a thing, as I ought to know. She had 
her trial, and after the first day or two even Dr. 
Strong had no desire to change. 

Her work was cut out for her, for I had the fever 
strong and no mistake. She was as patient as an 
angel, as untiring and as obedient as an automaton. 

I was scorching hot and deadly cold by turns and 
horribly restless. My body was full of pains, but 


DEATH’S THRESHOLD 


245 

worst of all were the wild inconsequent dreams that 
plagued me. 

I was always slipping over a precipice, grasping 
the sharp edges of the stones with hands that pained 
and bled, but always slipping, slipping, until at last 
I went off into delirium. 

One evening at dusk, how well I remember it, I 
seemed to come out of the darkness into heat and 
pain and nameless fear. It was very still and dark. 
The room was empty, only a night-light burning on 
the wash-hand stand behind the water- jug made the 
shadows sway uneasily on the ceiling. 

I was always noted in the family for the keenneiss 
of my hearing. Just then my senses seemed un- 
naturally acute. There was a whispering in the 
next room. I could distinguish at first only the low 
notes of Dr. Strong and the pure tone of my sister’s 
voice. In a little while the sounds shaped them- 
selves into words. 

“ There is no use trying to hide it from you,” the 
doctor said. “ He is really bad. His temperature 
just now was a hundred and five; it hardly falls at 
all in the morning. The fever is burning him away. 
It puzzles me horribly where he got such a dose of 
it. Mr. Beck mentioned an oyster supper some time 
ago; of course oysters sometimes give typhoid, but 
rarely, and only when they are contaminated. These 
were not, I should say. No one else at the supper 
got typhoid, as far as I can make out.” 

Gertrude cut him short. 

“ Is he in great danger, doctor? ” 

“ There is always great danger in typhoid.” 

She changed the form of the question. 


YOUNG BECK 


246 

“ Is there any hope ? ” 

He replied after an ominous pause with the fool- 
ish old formula. “ While there is life there’s hope.” 
But from the tone of his voice I knew he had none. 
But even then my brave sister did not despair. 

“God willing, doctor,” she said, “ I will pull 
him back to life; see if I don’t; I won’t let him 

g*o-” 

Then the doctor went out, and she stole noise- 
lessly back into the dimly-lit room. As I lay there 
silent in the quiet room I knew how men feel when 
the sentence of death is pronounced. I fancy I am 
as brave as another when I have no time to think of 
death. Boy and man I have risked my life freely 
for a slight cause, but this was different. Why 
should I be ashamed to confess it? I sweated and 
trembled with fear — fear and a sickening self- 
pitying revolt against death. I was sick with loath- 
ing that made the pain feel as nothing. Blessed with 
keen powers of enjoyment I had heretofore found 
the world a very pleasant place to live in. It was 
almost impossible to believe I was going out of 
it for ever into bleak oblivion. For a man in the 
flush of life death is mercifully impossible to realise. 
But now, with a vividness that was agony intoler- 
able, I saw it and I knew it. From where I lay 
motionless the dim outline of my sister’s face was 
visible as she sat far back in the chair. How would 
she feel and look when I was dead? Clearly, as if 
the thing were happening before my eyes, I saw 
her bending over my lifeless body, dropping tears 
on the poor cold face that could not feel, lifting the 
lifeless hand that fell back on the coverlet. I was 


DEATH’S THRESHOLD 


247 

gone, lost in nothingness, and life moved on with- 
out me as before. 

I suppose I must be a coward in my heart to feel 
like this. But I have from the first resolved to be 
frank in all I write, and this is what I did feel after 
the doctor had pronounced sentence as I lay there 
staring death in the face. 

When pain, physical or mental, grows too great 
for human endurance it brings merciful unconscious- 
ness. Once more I drifted into delirium. So day 
followed day with waking intervals of hopeless 
misery. All through, as I have afterwards known, 
my sister watched me with the untiring patience of 
an angel. 

Then, gradually by slow degrees, with many re- 
lapses, the fever ebbed away and left me, and I came 
back from the valley of Death, safe indeed, but 
feeble as a new-born child. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


NURSE ELINOR 

“ A miracle,” said Dr. Strong, “ but you pulled 
him through, Lady Gertrude, alone. I may frankly 
say I had no hope. He must have a constitution of 
wrought steel. But now that the patient is safe he 
must have a nurse.” 

“ Oh, doctor, don’t ask me to give up just yet.” 

“ I don’t ask, I command. I won’t come again 
while you are here. You must go away.” 

“ I surrender, doctor, on conditions. My brother’s 
great friend, Mr. Beck, has promised to come when 
I go, to take charge.” 

“ That’s fine! Mr. Beck can be trusted, and I 
mean to put in two nurses when you go, night and 
day. That’s a compliment, no one woman could 
take your place. Nurse Gibson will be one.” 

“ No,” said Gertrude unhesitatingly, “I don’t 
think so.” 

“ She is the best.” 

“ That may be, but I don’t like her. Let us have 
the second and third best, if you please.” 

She confessed to me afterwards she thought 
Elinor was in love with me. “ She called so often 
to enquire, and I did not want any of that kind of 
nonsense,” said my sister. 


NURSE ELINOR 


249 

So Nurse Gray was installed as day nurse and 
Nurse Granley as night, and Beck occupied the room 
next to mine. He did not tell me at the time, but 
he had a dodge arranged by which the opening and 
shutting of my door rang an electric bell in his 
room. 

As might be expected, meeting often in my room, 
Dr. Strong and Beck grew to be fast friends. Beck 
was deeply interested in bacteriology and the doctor, 
delighted in what he called his intelligent curiosity, 
took him off to his laboratory and showed him all 
his pet microbes swarming in what he called culture, 
which it appears is a kind of beef tea the brutes en- 
joy when they can’t get into a man. 

As I grew stronger I grew horribly hungry and 
railed at Beck, the doctor and nurse having joined 
into a conspiracy to starve me. 

Flavourless slops were all I had to eat and little 
of the same, but Lucullus never half as much en- 
joyed the best of his banquets. My appetite for 
food was a drunkard’s for drink, the craving as 
strong, the delight as intense. I did not in the 
least believe the doctor when he said that more food 
or stronger food meant death for me, and I knew 
that if I had the chance I neither could nor would 
have resisted it. 

One day Beck came into my room with a basket 
of fruit, which had arrived direct from the shop 
with only the words in a woman’s hand, “ To dear 
Charlie.” 

Paul was awfully particular, more particular even 
than the doctor, about what I should eat and 
shouldn’t, especially what I shouldn’t. These were 


250 


YOUNG BECK 


wonderful peaches and grapes. I have no notion 
how they were obtained at that season of the year, 
but they must certainly have cost a fortune. Beck 
eyed and sniffed them suspiciously, almost con- 
temptuously. Then he used a magnifying glass so 
long that I became impatient. 

“ What the deuce are you fussing over, old 
man? ” I said at last. “ One could think it was a 
bundle of stale vegetables instead of a basket of 
hot-house fruit. Be decent for once and hand them 
over, for I’m famishing.” 

“ You glutton, fruit gives typhoid sometimes as 
well as oysters.” 

“ Don’t be a donkey, not fruit like that ! ” 

“ I’m not so sure. The oysters seemed good too. 
Look at this — first swear you won’t grab.” 

He passed me a magnifying glass and held a 
peach under it. On the glossy rose and green vel- 
vet of the fruit I saw two or three little beads of 
juice. 

“ That’s nothing,” I said. 

“ It’s the same with the grapes,” he answered 
gravely. 

“ Something pricked them.” 

“ Yes, something pricked them, but what? ” 

“ A thorn, I suppose.” 

“ Vines have no thorns, nor peach trees.” 

“ I think you have gone dotty, old man,” I re- 
torted. “ It’s all right. Hand me over my prop- 
erty.” 

“Not a scrap until Dr. Strong sees it, anyway, 
and I’ll find out which of your girls really sent it. 
Keep cool, Charlie, there is no sense in getting riled ; 


NURSE ELINOR 


251 

I could lick you with my little finger. You will 
have your arrowroot in half an hour with barley 
water to follow, and there is a promise of a bit of 
sole and half glass of sherry and water to-morrow 
if you are a good boy.” 

“ Slops and scraps,” I groaned, “ that’s just what 
is keeping me as I am. I could peg into a porter- 
house steak and a pint of stout this minute.” 

“ And peg out afterwards,” retorted Beck grimly. 
“ No, you don’t, while I am in charge.” 

I heard no more of the fruit. A little incident 
that occurred two days later put it completely out 
of my head. The merest trifle is of interest in a 
sick-room. 

I had heard that meek, little Nurse Gray had, as 
meek little women will, fallen desperately in love, 
and I gathered her sweetheart was a bit of a scape- 
goat. Her great confidante in her love affairs, in- 
deed in everything, her guide, philosopher and 
friend, was Nurse Gibson, whom she absolutely 
worshipped. Nurse Gray’s sweetheart and the state 
of my health were the chief topics of discussion. 
Nurse Gray brought me many kind messages from 
my cousin, with whom, she took it for granted, I 
must be in love. Once or twice the shy little woman 
shyly hinted that I need not despair. 

A telephone had been installed in my room 
shortly after Beck came in charge. It amused me 
to talk to Gertrude and the doctor whenever I 
chose, and as the number had not been put on the 
register I would not be bothered with outsiders; 
at least we thought not. 

The first person who rang me up to condole and 


252 


YOUNG BECK 


congratulate was Mrs. Nevil Nugent, the second 
was Nurse Gibson. I could not understand how 
Mrs. Nugent knew my number. Elinor, of course, 
learned it from Nurse Gray. 

Nurse Gray was at her early dinner one day. 
She always had dinner in my room at two o’clock 
to the second, for like most meek little women 
Nurse Gray had a hearty appetite and liked punctu- 
ality at meals. The cover was off her dish of cut- 
lets and the claret was in her glass when the bell 
of the telephone rang furiously. 

“ Hallo ! ” I shouted into the receiver, and was 
answered by a man’s excited voice : “ Is Nurse Gray 
there?” 

“ For you, nurse,” I called out, and at once she 
leaped from the table and ran across the room. 
I could hear her terrified whisper : “ It must be 
Jack.” 

“ Yes, yes,” I heard her voice on the telephone 
trembling with excitement. “ Oh, I can’t, I really 
can’t. It’s impossible. Don’t say that. Indeed I 
would if I could. Anything in the world for you. 
Oh!” 

The second “ oh ” was even more pitiful than the 
first. Passionate love and dismay were in the 
sound. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said again, “ just wait one mo- 
ment.” 

She turned to me. 

“ It’s Jack, Lord Kir wood, he wants me to meet 
him at once. He says it is a matter of life or death. 
I won’t be half an hour away. May I go? ” 

“ Of course, little woman, you may go. Take 


NURSE ELINOR 


253 

your own time ; I will be here when you come back. 
I do hope it is a false alarm.” 

With an “ Oh, thank you! ” that came from the 
very bottom of her heart she snatched up her nurse’s 
bonnet and cloak and vanished. 

Her dinner lay neglected on the table. From the 
moment the telephone rang she never gave it a 
thought. The delicate perfume of the dish of cut- 
lets tickled my nostrils, the ruddy glow of the wine 
in the glass fascinated my gaze. I do not attempt 
to excuse myself, for those who have never known 
the typhoid famine, excuse is impossible. The sight 
of unprotected food drew me as a magnet draws 
iron. I could no more resist than the drunkard 
with liquor to his lips. 

What a laugh I’ll have at the doctor, I thought, 
as I staggered out of bed. It was the first time my 
feet had touched ground for many a long day, and 
I almost went over on my head; I had not dreamt 
I was so weak. My knees felt quite loose as if the 
muscles had got untied and wanted tightening up 
again. But the sight and the smell of the food 
pulled me together. 

Five faltering steps carried me across the room 
to the table, and I dropped into a chair in front of 
the cutlets. My hand was out to help myself from 
the dish when I felt the chair rise under me, and 
chair and all — I was a mere featherweight at the 
time — I was carried lightly back to bed. Screwing 
my head round I found Beck’s laughing face close 
to mine. 

“ No, you don’t, Charlie,” he said, with that smile 
of his that made it impossible to be vexed. Then in 


254 


YOUNG BECK 


a grave tone as he helped me unresisting back to 
bed : “ Are you mad, man, don’t you know what the 
doctor says? Where is Nurse Gray? Why has she 
left you to your own evil devices? ” 

A little sulkily I told him why she had gone and 
when. He whistled softly as he listened. “ I won- 
der ! ” he whispered to himself but I heard. 

“ What do you wonder? ” I asked, a little crossly, 
I’m afraid. My disappointment still rankled. 

“ I wonder if Nurse Gray met her sweetheart, if 
there was any sweetheart to meet, if ” 

“ If you are hinting at any trick on Nurse Gray’s 
part,” I interrupted, “ you are quite out. I never 
saw a little woman more unmistakably excited and 
in earnest.” 

“ I am not hinting at anything about Nurse Gray 
except that perhaps she made a little mistake. How- 
ever, we shall see.” 

A quarter of an hour later we did see. Nurse 
Gray came back in a fluster, very puzzled and not a 
little frightened. There was no one to meet her, no 
sign of any one. “ Perhaps he is dead,” she fal- 
tered on the point of tears. 

Beck consoled her. He has a wonderful way with 
women. I have heard that his father, who could 
not have been nearly so good-looking as the son, 
had the same knack. 

“ Don’t fret, nurse,” he said. “ If I’m right it 
wasn’t your Jack that was on the telephone.” 

She gave a little gasp of relief. 

“ Oh, I’m sure you are right,” she cried out. 
“ For a moment I half doubted that it was his 
voice. But why should any one pretend to be Jack 


NURSE ELINOR 


255 

just to frighten me? Who could have pretended 
it? ” 

“ That’s just what we have to find out if we 
can,” Beck answered. “ Meanwhile your dinner 
is quite cold. I shall ring to have something hot 
brought.” 

“ It doesn’t matter in the least,” she protested. 

“ I can never forgive myself for deserting my 
patient the way I did. What will Nurse Gibson 
think when I tell her? ” 

“ It is not always easy to find out what any one 
thinks even by asking them,” said Beck. 

I was very grateful that he did not tell the nurse 
of my raid on her meal, though I fancy it was for 
her sake rather than mine he refrained — she was 
already so pitifully remorseful. 

Beck certainly did not spare me when Dr. Strong 
came. The doctor himself looked so grave when he 
heard of my escapade that I felt as ashamed as a 
school-boy caught in some bit of tomfoolery. 

“ Would it really have hurt me so much if I had 
eaten it ? ” I ventured. 

“ It would have meant certain death,” he an- 
swered gravely, “ nothing could have saved you 
from a fatal relapse.” 

“ By Jove ! I had a narrow escape. I don’t want 
to die yet awhile, not in the least. But can any 
one guess what can be the meaning of the trick * 
played on Nurse Gray? Some silly practical joke, 

I suppose.” 

“ A pretty grim joke, I fancy,” said Beck. 

“ Have you examined the fruit yet, doctor? ” 

The doctor nodded. “ It was as you suspected.” 


YOUNG BECK 


256 

Then as he was going out of the room he whispered 
in a voice not meant for my ear : “ It’s a queer busi- 
ness altogether, a d d queer business. I can 

make nothing of it.” 

“ I think I can,” Beck said in the same low tone. 
“ We used to play a game of hide and seek when I 
was a boy, when the seeker got near the thing that 
was hidden the other chaps cried, 4 You’re warm! ’ 
When he got very near, they cried, 4 You’re hot! ’ 
I’m infernally hot at present, doctor.” 

Some one has said that it is worth while having 
pain to be rid of it. It is worth while being sick to 
be well again. Enjoyment comes by contrast, and 
convalescence almost pays for fever. It is a new 
life when all food is ambrosia and all drink nectar, 
and the world and the people in it seem all the pleas- 
anter from one’s having come so near to losing 
them. 

As I sat in my easy chair I felt a newly awakening 
vigour warming all my veins, as one can fancy old 
earth feels when winter is past and genial spring 
comes again. My father had returned post haste, 
Gertrude was with me continuously, and I saw 
Beck every other day. Truly it was good to be 
alive. 

I had lots of congratulations and among others a 
cordial letter from Cousin Elinor with a startling 
piece of news in the postscript. 

“ How shall I tell you? ” the postscript ran. “ I 
wonder will you be glad or sorry to hear it ! I am 
engaged to be married to Captain Bayard. We both 
hope you and your father will be pleased. May we 


NURSE ELINOR 


257 

call and see you some day ? Nurse Gray tells me you 
are almost quite well again. Please don’t say ‘ no.’ ” 

I tossed the letter over to Beck, who happened to 
be in the room at the time, and watched him read it 
right down to the postscript. 

“ Oh ! ” he said, when he had finished, just as a 
man says “ oh ” when you tell him the answer of a 
riddle that has puzzled him. He kept on staring at 
the letter. 

“ Well,” I asked, “ what answer shall I give? ” 

“ Answer to what ? ” 

“To the letter, stupid. Shall I ask them to come? 
You are the major domo, you know. If you say 
come they cometh, go and they goeth. It will do 
me good to see the all-conquering Captain captured 
at last. Well?” 

Still Beck waited silent again for a full minute as 
if weighing a weighty question. I had to ask him a 
third time. 

“ To be or not to be, Paul? Wake up, man.” 

“ Let us have them by all means,” he said at last. 
“ It will be very interesting.” 

“ We’ll make a little luncheon-party of it here in 
my room, you and I, and the Captain and his lady- 
love, and we’ll drink the health of the turtle doves.” 

“ And the doctor,” Beck said. “ I beg you won’t 
leave out the doctor.” 

“To frighten away microbes from our love 
feast,” I said, laughing. “ All right, we’ll have the 
doctor. Get them to come a little while before 
lunch, I want to talk with Elinor.” 

She came early. I never saw her looking more 


YOUNG BECK 


258 

beautiful, I never saw any woman looking more 
beautiful. She seemed glorified by love. She was 
dressed in an empire gown of dove-coloured silk, 
which showed her superb figure to the best advan- 
tage and heightened the dazzling purity of her 
complexion. She wore a necklace of turquoises, 
and I noticed a little toy scent bottle like Ger- 
trude’s hanging on her chain. Bayard followed 
looking shy and shamefaced, as engaged men will 
when they have been a bit lively on their own ac- 
count. 

“ From what Nurse Gray tells me,” she said, 
“ you have had a close shave, Charlie. You must 
be careful still; you are not yet out of the wood. 
I have known fatal relapses when the patient ap- 
peared perfectly well.” 

“ Hallo, hallo, Nell,” cried Bayard impatiently, 
“ don’t you play the blooming Cassandra. Every 
man has to die sometime, and it doesn’t help to 
think too much about it.” 

“ You are right, dear,” she answered. “ It 
doesn’t help to think too much about it.” 

She turned to him as she spoke. If ever love 
shone from a woman’s eyes it shone from hers then. 
Her whole soul seemed to go out into her gaze. She 
trembled a little and leaned towards him, as if drawn 
by a power stronger than herself. It was adoration 
I surprised in the momentary meeting of their eyes. 
The man was, I thought, less infatuated than the 
woman. It was not love so much as protection and 
encouragement that I read in his face. Tall, strong, 
and handsome as Apollo, with a reckless gallantry 
in his air that time out of mind had captured the 


NURSE ELINOR 


259 

feminine heart. He seemed worthy to win any 
woman’s love and hold it. 

A splendid picture they made standing there to- 
gether, his hand laid lightly on her shoulder. I 
confess for a moment I felt near envying him the 
worship of that beautiful woman, whom I had come 
so near loving myself. 

At that instant Beck entered the room in a hurry, 
and ran at once to get a seat for the lady, who was 
still standing. I had never seen Beck so awkward 
before, I could not imagine him so awkward. In 
his haste he tripped over one of the legs of the chair, 
and stumbled against Elinor so violently that she 
almost fell. Naturally he was profuse in his apolo- 
gies, which were smilingly accepted. Presently the 
talk became general, and we heard the news of the 
engagement. The Captain it seemed was retiring 
from the army; he wanted to “settle down.” “I 
hope,” he said vaguely, with the cheery optimism 
which was one of his charms, “ to pick up some 
money somehow to live on.” 

“ Father and myself would like to help,” I ven- 
tured. 

He laughed as if the notion pleased him. “ I shall 
only be too thankful,” he said. “ I make no pre- 
tence of being proud. So the money comes, I’m not 
at all particular where it comes from, or how.” 

Meanwhile lunch had been laid for five, and we 
only waited for the doctor, who came in presently 
with a small brown leather bag in his hand. 

Elinor sat at my right hand with Beck at the 
other side. As the soup was about to be served I 
saw her hand steal quietly to her chain, and I no- 


26 o 


YOUNG BECK 


ticed then that the little scent bottle I had seen when 
she came in was gone. At the same moment she dis- 
covered the loss, and I was amazed at the look of 
surprise and terror that came into her eyes when her 
fingers felt for the trinket, and could not find it. 

“ You have lost something? ” I said. 

“ Nothing,” she stammered out, the red flush on 
her face fading into deadly pallor. “ Nothing of 
any consequence.” 

“ I fancy this is yours, Miss Gibson,” said Paul, 
showing the little scent bottle in the hollow of his 
palm, but making no motion to restore it. Nor did 
its owner claim its return. 

Dr. Strong and Beck exchanged glances. 

“ There is something I wish to show you, Lord 
Kirwood,” said the doctor, rising. 

I knew vaguely that some tragedy was close at 
hand. All four sat silent at the table waiting. 
Elinor’s beautiful face was set and pale as death, 
her eyes turned in pitiful appeal to her lover. 

The doctor took from his bag a microscope, a 
glass tube with a cotton-wool stopper one-fourth 
full of some mud-coloured fluid, a silver wire with 
a glass handle and a tiny loop at the point, a spirit 
lamp and some small glass slides. 

Dipping the silver wire in the glass tube he 
brought out the tiniest drop of the mud-coloured 
mixture on its point. He touched the point on the 
glass plate, and then held the wire over the spirit 
lamp until it grew to white heat. The slides he 
arranged one over the other in the microscope, 
which he set on the table before me. 

I saw a round, semi-transparent white disc with 


NURSE ELINOR 261 

a line of purer white running through the mid- 
dle. 

“ That is the hanging edge of the drop/’ the doc- 
tor explained. “ Not a ten-thousandth part of the 
drop is within the field of the microscope, you might 
as weill expect to see all England from the top of a 
monument. Look at the left-hand side, close to the 
line. The microbes congregate at the edge, as they 
are keen on oxygen. Touch the regulator and bring 
the lens to your own focus.” 

There was no need. In the left-hand side of the 
disc I could see a myriad whitish dots shaped some- 
what like canary seed, moving rapidly to and fro. 
Now and then something like a tiny white snake, 
thin as a hair but as long as a dozen of the dots, 
would go wriggling through the swarm. 

“ Are those curious little white dots and hair 
serpents microbes ? ” I asked, but even as I asked I 
knew. 

It was Beck that answered. 

“ They are the microbes of typhoid,” he said. 
“ They are from the tempting present of fruit a 
kind friend sent you some time ago. I enquired 
and found the fruit was sent, not by Mrs. Nevil 
Nugent but by a very beautiful fair woman with 
golden hair. I discovered it was the same lady who 
called up Nurse Gray in her lover’s name on the 
’phone.” He held out the scent bottle to Elinor 
in the hollow of his hand. 

“ Can you guess, Miss Gibson, what this pretty 
little trinket contains? I felt it in that same lady’s 
glove when I shook hands with her at an oyster 
party ever so long ago. I thought at the time it 


262 


YOUNG BECK 


was a ring turned round ; I know batter now. That 
same lady knows all about microbes, she knows all 
about the culture of the typhoid germ. This little 
trinket is not filled with perfume, I fancy, but with 
that most deadly of all germ cultures. That night 
it was used for the oysters at the supper, to-day, 
I fancy, it was intended for the soup. Well, 
Miss Gibson, what have you to say on the sub- 
ject?” 

She sat silent and very pale, but Bayard never for 
a moment winced. His colour was fresh in his 
cheeks, his voice was easy as ever. 

“ Say nothing, Nell,” he advised, “ there is some 
old rule that you are not bound to incriminate your- 
. self.” 

“ He knew nothing,” she broke out passionately ; 
“ he at least is quite innocent.” 

“ That’s hardly accurate,” he went on, pleasantly 
as ever. “ When I told Nell, more than once, that 
I would marry her if I had your position, Charlie, 
I think she guessed what I meant. She’s clever, 
and I fancied she’d find a plan. I did not enquire 
into ways and means, I left that to her. Of course 
the business of the theatre and the supper was a 
put up job between us. You need not look at me 
in that fashion, Charlie. I have killed a few men 
in my day in honourable warfare, decent fellows 
enough, I dare say, against whom I had no grudge 
and nothing particular to gain by killing them. 
Why should I have any particular scruple about 
one life more or less, yours, mine, or another’s? 
The real question is what are you going to do about 
it?” 


NURSE ELINOR 


263 

Again it was Beck spoke : “ Nothing, if I may 
advise.” 

“ That’s good news, anyway, old girl,” said 
Bayard, as quietly as if they were alone. “ You 
are safe, quite safe.” 

Beck turned to him. 

“ There is no use trying again, Captain Bayard. 
Lord Stanton, as you know, up to this time thought 
it fair that the family estates, though not entailed, 
should go with the title. You won’t be surprised 
to hear that he has changed his mind. He made 
his will yesterday by which, if his son dies without 
issue, all he dies possessed of goes to his daughter. 
In no case can you touch a penny.” 

“ Then our little game is up,” said Bayard, still 
to the girl, whose eyes never for a moment left his 
face as if those two were alone together in the room. 

“ But you will marry me all the same, Harry, it’s 
not my fault. I risked everything for your sake.” 

“ Hardly,” he answered lightly. “ Be reasonable, 
Nell. Matrimony without money would be mad- 
ness for both. We can, of course, go on a little 
longer as we are going, if you care to” — her 
cheeks burned at his careless words — “ then you 
get back to your nursing and I go to the devil in my 
own way. Meanwhile,” he went on, as if hei had 
just noticed our presence, “ we are keeping those 
good people from their lunch. We had better go.” 

Then with the trembling girl beside him he passed 
from the room as jauntily as if a friendly visit were 
just over. 

A fortnight later, when I had quite recovered, I 
was sitting at breakfast with Beck. He passed me 


YOUNG BECK 


264 

over the Daily Telephone with his finger on the 
heading “ ROMANTIC EPISODE IN HIGH 
LIFE,” and I read: 

“ We deeply regret to announce the death, under 
very romantic and pathetic circumstances, of the 
gallant and promising young officer, Captain H. 
Cunningham-Bayard, V. C. He was engaged to be 
married to the beautiful and highly connected Miss 
Elinor Gibson. Unhappily, only a few days before 
the marriage, Captain Bayard was stricken down by 
pneumonia in its most malignant form. His young 
and beautiful fiancee, reckless of infection, insisted 
on nursing him. She, too, caught the fell disease, 
and the faithful lovers died on the same day, almost 
at the same hour, to the intense affliction of a 
numerous circle of friends.” 

“ Pneumonia,” commented Beck; “Pm not sur- 
prised. The bacteriologists have not yet discovered 
the microbe of those swift and fatal diseases, small- 
pox, typhus and scarlet fever. But the germ of 
pneumonia is well known in the laboratory. I think 
I can guess how Bayard caught his death.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


AN EPIDEMIC OF MURDER 

A month after my attack which had brought me 
half over the threshold of Death I was better than 
I had ever been in my life before. 

It was a busy time in Parliament, patching up the 
International Peace Arbitration which is to make 
war impossible, and for which, so far at least as 
the public is concerned, the governor and Starkey 
Colthurst shared the credit pretty equally between 
them, though privately both confessed that Beck 
had been the man in the gap. 

Even I had my share of the reward. When the 
death of Lord Appington caused a reshuffle of the 
Cabinet cards and Starkey Colthurst went up, as 
every one expected, to the Colonial Secretaryship, I 
was offered the Under-Secretaryship for Foreign 
Affairs. So far as I could make out, for the gov- 
ernor is as close as an oyster, he was himself the 
only member of the Cabinet who opposed the ap- 
pointment on the ground that it was not becoming 
that the secretary and under-secretary should bei 
father and son. But he was unanimously overruled 
by his colleagues, especially by the Prime Minister, 
who declared it an admirable arrangement. 

I strongly suspect that public spirit was not the 


266 


YOUNG BECK 


governor’s only motive for opposition. It is quite 
certain, at any rate, that the Foreign Office was at 
the time by no means a bed of roses. 

There had been of late an epidemic of attempted 
royal assassinations, none of which fortunately came 
off, though more than one reigning sovereign had a 
close shave for his life. The would-be assassins had 
all swarmed back to London like rats to their holes. 
One man especially, named Lascelles, lived at ease 
in Soho though he was in request by the police of 
four different nationalities. 

Now it happens that my father has a strong view 
on this question. He would grant an asylum, of 
course, to purely political offenders, but he draws 
the line at assassins and would-be assassins, and he 
strongly objects to London being made the refuge 
of the worst ruffians in Europe. 

“ We are none too tender to our own political 
offenders,” I have heard him say. “ An Irish agi- 
tator who makes a speech that doesn’t happen to 
please the government of the day is treated like a 
pickpocket. But we allow no interference with the 
safety or comfort of a foreign assassin.” 

Just before my appointment he had persuaded his 
colleagues in the Cabinet to bring in a short bill by 
which “ political ” assassins and would-be assassins 
were liable to be extradited, and though the bill 
more properly belonged to the Home Office he took 
charge of it himself. 

As may be imagined it roused an angry buzzing 
among the anarchists in the wasps’ nest in Soho. In 
the House of Commons I was in charge, and being 
a new broom I was determined to make a clean 


AN EPIDEMIC OF MURDER 267 

sweep of European refuse out of London. My 
vigour in pressing the bill forward was resented as 
strenuously by those for whom it was intended. 

Every post brought me a sheaf of letters full of 
blood-curdling threats, among which sudden death 
was the lightest penalty suggested. I went my way 
rejoicing, not caring two pins for their threats. It 
would have taken a deal more than that to depress 
me just then. 

There is no use delaying the confession, I was in 
love for the first time in my life. This confession 
may provoke the irreverent laughter of the undis- 
criminating, — Gertrude certainly laughed long and 
loud when I told her, — but it was true all the same. 
That I had thought myself in love before I don’t 
deny, but how was I to tell when I had never known 
the real thing ? I had all my life gaily answered the 
challenge of eyes, black, brown and blue. But never 
did I know what love really meant until I met 
Margery Glenmore. It can hardly be called love at 
first sight, but at first sight the seed was planted 
that quickly grew and blossomed and filled my soul 
with its fragrance. 

If I start out to describe her I would never stop. 
Most people have seen her or heard her before her 
retirement from the stage, where, for two whole 
years, she was the bright particular star in London, 
and no one who has seen and heard her has any need 
for my praise. 

I met her at a party of Lady Betty Montague's, 
and we got on remarkably well together. Indeed, I 
was more than half in love with her when I was 
called away suddenly from her side. But when we 


268 


YOUNG BECK 


met more than a month later at some theatrical 
bazaar, to which I had gone because I knew she 
would be there, she seemed to have forgotten my 
very existence. It was uphill work trying to get 
back into her good graces but eventually I grew to 
be a friend, and, as I sometimes dared to hope, a 
little more than a friend. The privilege of her 
friendship was more precious from being so rare, 
for Margery offered no scrap of hope, comfort or 
encouragement to her innumerable admirers. A 
minor poet had written verses in one of the maga- 
zines, in which she was described as the “ matchless 
Margery of the marble heart.” 

While her triumphs thrilled London with delight 
she lived a secluded life in a pretty little villa about 
a score of miles outside the city. Her sole com- 
panion was her mother, a handsome, gentle, sad- 
looking lady, who spoke little and smiled seldom. 
Her sole extravagance was, if it could be called an 
extravagance, a well appointed motor that whisked 
her into the theatre every evening and straight 
home again when the performance was over. 

The little suburban villa was as hard to enter 
as an enchanted castle. Only two people, so far as 
I know, were on the visiting list, and I was one 
of those fortunate two. The other was the famous 
actor, Arthur Maltravers, sharer in her dramatic 
triumphs. 

It was a rare treat to hear those two play to- 
gether, yet to me it was by no means unalloyed 
delight, for the young actor, with the great dark 
eyes inherited from an Italian mother, was won- 
derfully handsome, and Margery was manifestly 


AN EPIDEMIC OF MURDER 269 

fond of him. For his part he made no secret of 
his adoration. Though half the women in London 
were in love with him he had no eyes, no smile, 
no voice for any but Margery. 

Strangely enough he and I were good friends 
from the first. If I was, as I have confessed, a 
little jealous of him he did not flatter me by return- 
ing the compliment. At times it struck me as a 
bad sign that Maltravers knew he had no ground 
for jealousy. But at times I found a gentle light, 
or thought I found it, in Margery’s glorious eyes 
that forbade me to despair. 

Meanwhile I pressed forward the second reading 
of my extradition bill with unrelenting vigour, and 
received each morning a larger consignment of 
threatening letters which were promptly committed 
to the waste paper basket. 

One afternoon I had a surprise. Just as I sat 
down from answering a foolish question about a 
German airship, one of the House of Commons’ 
attendants put a card into my hand, and I read : 
“ M. Victor Lascelles. Urgent.” For a moment I 
thought it incredible. I stared at the card half 
expecting the writing would fade and disappear. 
That the noted anarchist, for whom the police of 
so many countries were clamouring, should seek 
out the minister in charge of the bill that was to 
deliver him into the hands of his enemies, seemed 
a thing to defy belief. But the next moment I knew 
it was indeed Lascelles himself who had sent for 
me and waited for me; it was just the cool, auda- 
cious thing that the man, from all I had heard of 
him, was likely to do. In five minutes question time 


YOUNG BECK 


270 

was over. The House emptied and I stepped out 
with the rest, the card in my hand, through the 
police barricade when a tall, well dressed man got 
up from a seat under one of the frescoes and ac- 
costed me. 

“ Lord Kirwood, I think,” he said, with a con- 
ciliatory smile. “ My name is Lascelles ; you may 
perhaps have heard the name before. I was anx- 
ious to have a private word with you on the subject 
of this bill, a word which may prove to our mutual 
advantage.” 

Before I answered I availed myself of the chance 
of a good look at the notorious Victor Lascelles. 
He was certainly the best dressed and most present- 
able man in that crowded lobby. He looked about 
thirty years of age, tall, thin and wiry, with dark 
eyes, green rather than blue, that seemed to search 
you through and through. 

Without a word I led him back through the bar- 
rier to the inner lobby, where members and visitors 
bustled about together. I was glad to believe that 
no one in the crowd knew who was my distin- 
guished visitor. We walked down the long corri- 
dor lined with members’ lockers, and found a quiet 
corner in the strangers’ smoking-room before either 
of us spoke again. 

For a moment we sat silent and vigilant as fen- 
cers on guard. Lascelles spoke first. 

“ Lord Kirwood,” he said, “ you will pardon me, 
I’m sure, for coming straight to the point. You 
had best drop this bill.” 

“ Perhaps you will kindly explain why.” 

I confess I should have been glad to catch him 


AN EPIDEMIC OF MURDER 271 

in any attempt at intimidation that would allow me 
to hand him over to the police. 

“ It would be much safer,” he said. 

I thought I had him. 

“ For whom? ” I asked sharply. 

A smile flickered on his thin lips as he answered : 
“ For the government, in which as a Liberal I am 
much interested. It must hurt a Liberal govern- 
ment to pass a measure to abridge the liberty of 
the subject, to betray the sons of liberty who 
claim a refuge on the inviolable shores of Eng- 
land.” 

“ Is that all?” 

“ Not quite all. May I add, Lord Kirwood, that 
the supporters of the bill have good grounds for 
fear.” 

“ Of whom? Of what?” 

“ Of their own conscience,” he said, with the 
same mocking smile. “ They will not fail to repent 
when it is too late.” 

“ I, for one, am prepared to take my chance.” 

“ I think you are foolish, very foolish. You 
cannot doubt that those who are injuriously affected 
by the bill will use every legitimate means in their 
power to prevent its passing.” 

The way he dropped in the word “ legitimate ” 
made his meaning quite clear, but I could take no 
exception to his words. 

“ Mr. Lascelles,” I said coldly, “ there is no need 
to prolong this interesting interview, I think we 
understand each other thoroughly.” 

“ And you mean to go on? ” 

“ Certainly.” 


272 


YOUNG BECK 


“ You will pardon me saying that I think you 
are — foolish.” 

Then I showed him back politely to the outer 
lobby and a policeman, to whom I whispered a 
word, unostentatiously saw him safe out of the 
precincts of the House. 

Let me honestly confess that the interview got 
on my nerves. Vague, indefinite, threatening let- 
ters did not affect me in the least, but this was dif- 
ferent. Instinctively I felt that this man with the 
quiet voice and evil eyes was very much in earnest. 
I had heard rumours of a strange power which he 
possessed, compelling others to do his will against 
their own judgment. I did not believe it, of course, 
but all the same it affected me unpleasantly. 

Most likely it was a coincidence that I was shot 
at two days later returning from a late dinner party. 
I thought the report I heard was the bursting of a 
bicycle tube, but when I reached home I found a 
jagged bullet hole in the silk of my crush hat. 
The would-be murderer, of course, escaped. 

The very next night there was another attempt. 
Beck and myself were walking home from the 
House through the Green Park. It was a cool, 
quiet, starlit night, the red sparks of our cigars 
shone bravely in the dusk. Seventy yards away 
men were mere shadows blending with the dark- 
ness. 

We were half way through the park when the 
shot was fired. There was no mistake about it 
this time. The report rang out clear and loud on 
the still night air, and we could see the spurt of 
flame from the mouth of the revolver. 


AN EPIDEMIC OF MURDER 273 

The man turned and ran, Beck and I full tilt after 
him. Beck touched his heel with his toe as he ran, 
and the man went over and over like a shot rabbit 
on the grass. 

The poor devil was utterly bewildered. A rather 
stout, stupid, good-humoured looking fellow he 
was, the last man in the world whom one would 
expect to see engaged in such an adventure. He 
had thrown away his revolver when he started to 
run ; now he offered neither resistance nor explana- 
tion, but lay still and whined for mercy. 

We handed hinj over to a belated policeman 
whom the pistol shot had brought on the scene, and 
walked home, twisting the puzzle this way and that 
but finding no answer. 

The police investigation next day only made the 
business more puzzling. The accused was an Ital- 
ian named Marco Sempri, who was engaged as 
super in one of the theatres. It turned out after- 
wards that both Miss Glenmore and Maltravers 
knew him for a decent, harmless fellow. His lodg- 
ings were in Soho, but the police had absolutely 
nothing against him, and there was not a particle 
of suggestion that he belonged to the anarchists or 
any other of the pestiferous societies that infest 
the district. 

He could give no explanation whatever of his 
attempt on my life. He had seen me two or three 
times behind the scenes in the theatre and knew 
my appearance in that way, but he had never spoken 
to me and had not the smallest grudge against me, 
nor the least reason for desiring my death. He 
just felt, he said, as if he must buy a revolver and 


274 


YOUNG BECK 


watch me as I came out of the House of Commons 
and shoot me. This he was commanded to do by 
a voice which he could not disobey. The moment 
he had fired the shot he was horrified at what he 
had done. 

The police magistrate, naturally enough, treated 
this story with scorn. He expressed his conviction 
that the accused was one of a gang, and urged the 
police to spare no efforts to capture his accomplices. 
The prisoner was committed for trial but Beck 
bailed him out. 

“ There is something more in this than meets 
the eye,” he said. “ This man does not look in the 
least like a murderer or a liar. I should not be 
surprised if the story he tells proves in the end to 
be the plain unvarnished truth.” 

For a week nothing happened though meanwhile 
the bill had passed its second reading in the House 
of Commons. Then I had a strange and startling 
adventure. 

A few days before, after many entreaties and 
refusals, I had secured from Miss Glenmore the 
privilege of seeing her sometimes in her room in the 
theatre during the intervals between the acts. She 
had always a few minutes to spare, for her stage 
toilet was the simplest of any woman’s that ever 
faced the footlights. Her brilliant complexion de- 
fied their glare, so no grease paint ever defiled her 
face. 

That night she was Shakespeare’s sweetest hero- 
ine, Viola, and she played the part to the life. 
Her arch vivacity was touched and softened by a 
plaintive tenderness that melted my very soul. 


AN EPIDEMIC OF MURDER 


275 

How lovely she looked, and how womanly withal 
in her gay, boyish attire, with her silken, doublet 
and hose, her plumed cap on her dainty head and 
her velvet sheathed rapier by her side. How airily 
she stepped on the stage, the gay embodiment of 
youth and life; there was no room for wonder at 
the sudden infatuation of poor Olivia. 

But it was her touching love plaints that moved 
me most, with an eager longing to claim it for my 
own. 

“ She never told her love, 

But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud, 

Feed on her damask cheek.” 

I was possessed while she spoke with a fierce and 
increasing envy of the insensible Duke of Illyria, 
gallantly played by Arthur Maltravers. 

When the theatre shook with a thunder of ap- 
plause at the fall of the curtain and Viola bowed 
her acknowledgments, each bow awakening a re- 
newal of the storm, I hastened to her room and 
waited for her coming. 

She came at last, flushed with her triumph, so 
airily graceful, so radiantly beautiful that I grew 
faint at the sight of her excessive loveliness. There 
was a smile on her face as she came into the room, 
but as I stepped forward, both hands out in warm 
greeting, the smile vanished in a sudden frown, and 
without a word or motion of warning she plucked 
the rapier from its velvet sheath and lunged straight 
at my unprotected breast. 

Instinctively I threw up my arm and by a mira- 
cle, as it seemed, I put the blade aside. But the 
point pierced the sleeve and raised the skin. 


YOUNG BECK 


276 

Again the look on her face changed now to sud- 
den fear, as one who wakens from a dream of 
horror. She looked amazedly for a moment at the 
naked sword from whose point dripped one drop 
of blood. 

Then she dashed it from her on the ground, and 
cried in a voice that set my pulses leaping: 

“ Oh, I have wounded you, I have killed you ! 
Why did I do it, why did I do it? I must have 
gone mad.” 

“ It is nothing, nothing at all, the merest scratch 
on my arm.” 

“ Show it to me,” she commanded, “ take off 
your coat and show it to me.” 

The white shirt sleeve was stained with crimson 
just above the elbow and the stain spread and deep- 
ened. In a moment she had me down in a chair, 
the shirt sleeve rolled up. It was maddening, a 
delicious madness, to feel her cool firm fingers on 
my arm as she washed the blood and bound the cut 
with her own handkerchief. Her voice and eyes 
were full of tender concern. Never had I felt my- 
self so near her love. My lips were opened to beg 
for it when Arthur Maltravers unannounced came 
into the room, still dressed in the gorgeous costume 
of the Duke. His eye rested instantly on my blood- 
stained sleeve. 

“ Hallo, what is this,” he cried, “ how did you 
get hurt?” 

“ I wounded him,” said Margery, in a voice that 
still trembled with fright, and as I would fain hope, 
with some more tender feeling. “ I nearly killed 
him, I don’t know how or why. As I came into 


AN EPIDEMIC OF MURDER 


277 


the room and saw him there a sudden feeling came 
to me that I must instantly strike him with my 
sword. I had no power to resist. I drew and 
lunged straight at his breast. Only his own cour- 
age and coolness saved him.’’ 

“ It is like the story of the wretched super,” I 
cried in amazement. “ The poor wretch may have 
been speaking the truth after all. Beck thought so 
at the time.” 

“ It was some sudden, overpowering madness,” 
Margery said. “ I had a terrible headache this 
morning ; I thought I should go mad with it.” 

“ It is mesmerism,” said Maltravers with con- 
viction. “ Some powerful will is using you in 
spite of yourself to wreak vengeance on Lord Kir- 
wood.” 

“ But is that possible ? ” I asked, a little incredu- 
lously. “ I thought all the mysteries of mesmerism 
were completely exploded.” 

Maltravers laughed indulgently. 

“ I am by way of being a mesmerist myself,” 
he said. “ I mesmerised Miss Glenmore’s headache 
away this morning, and I claim to speak with some 
little knowledge of the subject. Of the deeper mys- 
teries of mesmerism, it is true, I know nothing 
beyond my belief that they exist, but now and again 
I have come close to their borders. People whom 
I have thrown into mesmeric sleep have learned 
secrets that could not have come to them in their 
waking moments. One lady, for example, who lost 
a large diamond, found it instantly in the toe of 
one of her slippers when she awoke.” 

“ Coincidence,” I suggested. 


YOUNG BECK 


278 

“ Perhaps, but she told me she knew it was 
there.” 

I was still incredulous; but Margery was plainly 
impressed. 

“ I certainly felt,” she said, “ as if some malig- 
nant will had mastered my own. Oh, I am very 
frightened and tired and I don’t want to talk any 
more about it to-night, please. Arthur, would you 
mind seeing if my motor is waiting, say I’ll be 
ready in a quarter of an hour? ” Then as he left 
the room : “ Can you forgive me ? ” 

“ There is nothing to forgive,” I answered, “ but 
I can never forget. That little scratch was a trifling 
price to pay for your pity, for pity, we are told, 


“ Stop ! ” she said, holding up a warning finger, 
but smiling as she spoke, “ we must have no more 
foolishness to-night, I’m too exhausted.” She 
flung aside the velvet cap with the gay plume, and 
the dark hair fell rippling over the crimson velvet 
of her doublet. “ Be off with you at once, my maid 
is waiting in the room inside as tired as myself.” 

“ Remember you lunch with us to-morrow.” 

“ I shall not forget.” 

The tender light shining in her eyes sent me home 
rejoicing to rapturous dreams. 


CHAPTER XX 


IN THE GRIP OF THE HYPNOTIST 

There were just five of us to lunch next day, 
Margery, Maltravers, Gertrude, Beck and myself. 
Strive as we might, Margery could not keep away 
from the subject of her strange seizure the night 
before. 

“ The thought has a terrible fascination for me,” 
she said, when we reached the drawing-room, where 
Egyptian cigarettes were allowed. “ I cannot for 
one moment get it out of my mind. It is awful to 
be the slave of the will of some unknown master, 
to be compelled to commit any crime at his com- 
mand.” 

“ I don’t believe there is such power in Nature,” 
said Beck. “ I find no proof of it.” 

“ Then you don’t believe in hypnotism,” said 
Maltravers quietly. “ I can prove you wrong in 
that, anyway.” 

“ Oh, you need not ; of course I believe in it as 
far as it goes. The question is, how far? ” 

“ Hypnotism means that one will operates on 
another,” ventured Gertrude, “ isn’t that it?” 

“ Yes,” said Beck, “ that’s about it, but ” 

“ There is a ‘ but,’ then? ” 

“ A very big ‘ but ’ if I’m to judge. My view is 


28 o 


YOUNG BECK 


that an outside will can operate only through the 
medium of the senses. I don’t believe mind can 
communicate with mind any other way. Thought 
transference through space, telepathy as they call 
it, is, to my mind, impossible.” 

“ I’m sure you’re wrong there,” said Maltravers 
earnestly. “ Forgive me if I seem rude, but I have 
known thought transference within my own experi- 
ence, and have heard on good authority of hypno- 
tists who exercised a despotic control over people 
they never saw, much less spoke to. On your the- 
ory, how can you account for the fact that people 
in hypnotic trance came to the knowledge of secrets 
that have certainly not been communicated through 
the senses? ” 

“ I don’t pretend to account for the fact ” said 
Beck. There was a slight ironic emphasis on the 
word “ fact.” 

Then suddenly Gertrude, who had been listening 
with breathless interest, took sides with Maltravers. 

“ But how do you account for this murder epi- 
demic, Mr. Beck? Must there not have been some 
occult and malignant influence exercised by an en- 
emy of Charlie’s, first on the super and then on 
Miss Glenmore, impelling them to murder him? 
How did they catch the epidemic? ” 

“ I cannot account for it — yet.” 

“ You hope to?” 

“ Every riddle has its answer.” 

“ A woman’s instinct is often better than a man’s 
reason,” interposed Margery. “ For my part I am 
convinced that the dreadful man, Lascelles, who, 
Lord Kirwood told us, threatened him in the House 


THE GRIP OF THE HYPNOTIST 281 


of Commons, is at the bottom of the whole business. 
I saw a man in the stalls that night that must have 
been staring at me all through the play; a dozen 
times I found his eyes looking straight into mine.” 

“ I agree with Miss Glenmore,” said Gertrude. 
“ There is something uncanny about the man in 
the pictures I have seen in the papers. It must be 
Lascelles, I know we are right.” 

“ Right or wrong, my dear,” I said soothingly, 
“ what does it matter? We cannot go for Lascelles 
on the strength of a lady’s instinct. When all is 
said and done there is only one thing for it, I must 
be on my guard constantly. I got this little play- 
thing the day after I was fired at.” 

I took out a dainty little revolver of the latest 
pattern and laid it on the table. It fitted into my 
waistcoat pocket, but it could send its five soft- 
nosed bullets plumb straight at thirty yards. The 
ladies examined the deadly plaything with timid 
eyes and fingers. 

“ It won’t go off, Charlie ? ” Gertrude asked. 

“ Not unless you pull the trigger. I can get my 
man with it at thirty yards.” 

“ But isn’t it terrible to think you may kill some 
poor man or woman that is, after all, only the 
innocent tool of that devil, Lascelles? ” 

“ There is no choice when it comes to the ques- 
tion of killing or being killed. Self-preservation, 
my dear, is the first law of nature.” 

“ Even against me?” whispered Margery, who 
sat beside me, so low that the others did not hear. 

“ I would sooner die a hundred deaths than hurt 
a hair of your head.” 


282 


YOUNG BECK 


“ At best,” interposed Maltravers, “ your re- 
volver is good only against outsiders. It is no 
use against the members of your household.” 

“ Me, for example,” said Gertrude, laughing. 
“ What would you do, Charlie, if that wretch Las- 
celles got hold of my will and I took to shooting? ” 

“ I’d stand quite still for fear you might hit me 
by accident.” 

“ I will never put my hand on a weapon while 
I live, and I will never have one within reach,” 
said Margery, “ so you are quite safe from me, 
Lord Kirwood.” 

“ I can never be safe from you, and what’s more 
I don’t want to be,” I said softly. “ Will you come 
for a row to-morrow? I know you are not rehears- 
ing, and the upper regions of the Thames are glori- 
ous just now. You need not be afraid of tossing 
me overboard, if the humour takes you, I can swim 
like a fish.” 

“ I know I oughtn’t to, but ” 

“ You will ! I don’t know how to begin to thank 
you.” 

After that, I had her to myself in a quiet corner 
for a good twenty minutes. I have not the least 
notion what the rest of the company said or did 
till Maltravers, who had come to us with Margery, 
got up to leave. Then I saw Beck looking grim, 
and I overheard Gertrude saying to Maltravers : 

“ But you are quite sure that if I were thrown 
into a trance I should know the secret of the attacks 
on my brother? ” 

“ Not quite sure,” he answered, in his low mu- 
sical voice. “ Unhappily we can hardly ever be 


THE GRIP OF THE HYPNOTIST 283 

quite sure of anything in this world, Lady Gertrude, 
but I think it is most probable.” 

The next scene in this strange drama was, if 
possible, more exciting than the last. 

Two days later Gertrude, the governor, Beck and 
I were at breakfast when the thing happened. The 
governor and myself were talking over the extra- 
dition bill, and that naturally led on to the deadly 
hostility of the criminal classes to the bill, its au- 
thors and advocates. 

“ I hope you always carry your revolver, Char- 
lie,” said Gertrude, in a tone so strained, so differ- 
ent to her ordinary voice that I turned to her in 
surprise, though I knew how nervous she was on 
my account. 

“ Why, certainly,” I answered, producing it. 

Half unconsciously as it seemed she took the 
weapon from my hand. I noticed that she was very 
pale and trembling, and I noticed too that Beck’s 
eyes were fixed on her. But there was nothing 
strange in that for Beck seldom looked at any one 
else when Gertrude was in the room. 

In a moment she clenched the revolver tight in 
both hands, so tight that the knuckles showed white 
as bone, then suddenly, as gripped by a strong re- 
solve, she turned the muzzle straight at me, her 
finger on the trigger. But before I could move or 
cry out Beck’s hand was on her wrist. At the same 
moment the report rang out, the bullet struck the 
ceiling and sprinkled the breakfast table with a 
shower of plaster. The room was filled with pun- 
gent smoke, and Gertrude fell back in a dead faint 
into Beck’s arms. 


YOUNG BECK 


284 

He was the only one that kept his head. The 
governor and myself both thought that Gertrude 
was dead, that she had shot herself. 

“ She has fainted,” Beck whispered. “ The 
fierce struggle against the overmastering outside 
influence, the horror of what she was compelled to 
do proved too much for her. She will be all right 
in a moment. Just stand there, Charlie, where she 
can see you the instant her eyes open.” 

He sprinkled a little water on her white face, 
and forced a few drops of brandy between her 
teeth. 

Presently the dead white of her cheeks warmed 
with a faint underglow of pink and her eyelids 
raised languidly. At the sight of me remembrance 
kindled in her eyes and her languor vanished. 

‘‘You are not hurt?” she cried eagerly, just as 
Margery had done. “ Oh, my God, how I have 
suffered, what have I done ? ” 

“ I’m all right, Gerty,” I said. “ How did it 
happen ? ” 

In low tones that faltered and broke with fear 
she told us. Suddenly a “ silent voice,” as she 
called it — she was sure it was the voice of Las- 
celles — commanded her to ask for the pistol. A 
little curious and more than a little frightened she 
obeyed without thought of resistance. It was not 
till the pistol was actually in her hand that she felt 
the inexorable order to shoot me. With all the 
strength of her will she resisted the horrible com- 
mand — to no avail. Under that compelling force 
her power of resistance slowly ebbed away. She 
was forced to point the revolver straight at me, 


THE GRIP OF THE HYPNOTIST 285 

her finger was already pressing the trigger when 
Beck threw up the weapon and saved my life. 

“ I could not have lived an hour, Charlie,” she 
whispered, “ if I had shot you.” 

“ All’s well that ends well, Gerty,” I said, as 
cheerfully as I could. “ The third is the charm, 
and I have escaped three times. This may be the 
last attempt. The will power of Lascelles, or who- 
ever is behind this cursed business, cannot hold out 
for ever. You gave him a run for his money that 
time. Perhaps the strain of command is as hard 
on him as the strain of resistance is on you.” 

But though I talked cheerfully before the gov- 
ernor and Gertrude, who, I could see, were de- 
voured with anxiety on my account, I wasn’t feel- 
ing particularly cheerful. I hope I am no greater 
coward than the next man, but it was by no means 
a comfortable experience to come three times within 
measurable distance of death without the least no- 
tion whence the peril came or how it could be 
averted. Later on, when Beck and myself were 
alone together, I spoke out. 

“ It’s not good enough, old man. I feel like the 
Czar of all the Russias when the anarchists are 
on the job — worse. My nearest and dearest are 
the keenest to cut me off. If you were one second 
later Gertrude had me that time. I suppose you 
will have the next shy yourself.” 

“ Not if I know it.” 

“ But you won’t know it till it’s done, that’s the 
devil of the business.” 

“If you live till I hurt 'you, Charlie,” he said 
confidently, “ you’ll live for ever,” 


286 


YOUNG BECK 


“ But there were Gertrude and Miss Glenmore, 
they did not want to hurt me if they could help 
it, but some devil got hold of them. I wonder if 
there’s anything in Miss Glenmore’s notion that 
Lascelles is at the bottom of it. Maltravers knows 
something about hypnotism and he thinks it likely; 
but then Lascelles skipped the country a week ago.” 

“ Maltravers,” said Beck, “ thinks that a man in 
a hypnotic trance might discover the secret. I have 
a great mind to try.” 

“ The same thing occurred to me, Paul. I was 
going to ask him to hypnotise me on the off 
chance.” 

“ I spoke first,” said Beck. “ But I will be glad 
to have you on the premises when the thing is done. 
As I understand, and I’ve read about it a bit, your 
will is asleep when you are hypnotised; it is in 
complete abeyance, and the other chap steps in and 
takes possession with a word of command. I 
should like you to be present to see fair play, as 
it were, when Maltravers takes control.” 

Maltravers, whom we saw that night in his room 
in the theatre waiting to go on as Romeo, was not 
merely willing but eager to try the experiment. 
Gertrude’s attempt on my life horrified him. 

“ It was in some degree my fault,” he said. “ At 
her earnest request I mesmerised her in the hope 
that she would discover the secret. She failed com- 
pletely, but the result would be, I fear, to make 
her will weaker and render her more liable to other 
influence.” 

“ Is it likely that I should succeed where she 
failed?” asked Beck. 


THE GRIP OF THE HYPNOTIST 287 

“ I think it is very likely. There is danger, of 
course, of other influences, but I have found that a 
man is far less amenable than a woman, and, as I 
understand, you don’t believe that such an influence 
can operate at all except directly.” 

“ I am always willing to learn,” said Beck, “ and 
own my errors when I find them. I think the ex- 
periment is well worth trying. Very likely it will 
tell us the secret we are in quest of. Could you put 
the thing through to-morrow morning, say eleven 
or half past, in my chambers? Kirwood and I are 
going for a motor drive in the afternoon.” 

It was the first I had heard of the motor 
drive. 

“ Eleven will suit me perfectly,” said Maltravers. 

“ Is there any objection to Kirwood coming?” 
Beck asked. “ He’d like it, and I’d like it if you 
have no objection.” 

“ Quite impossible,” cried Maltravers ‘decisively. 
“ As I have said I can not in any case guarantee 
success, but I guarantee absolute failure even to 
induce the trance if there is any one but our two 
selves in the room. So sorry, Kirwood,” he said, 
turning courteously to me, “ but it is really impos- 
sible. If you care to be hypnotised yourself at any 
time I shall only be too happy.” 

“ All the same, old man,” said Beck, as Maltrav- 
ers at his cue rushed on to the stage, “ you be there 
if you want to. It’s only a pose on his part. The 
presence of a third party cannot affect him in the 
least, especially if he does not know the third party 
is present. Come over to my place as near to ten 
as you can manage.” 


288 


YOUNG BECK 


At ten o’clock sharp next morning I found Beck 
in his study, and I at once noticed an innovation 
in the room. Over his bedroom door, which opened 
inwards from the study, there was hung a heavy 
curtain of dark crimson plush. 

“ You will get behind that curtain, Charlie,” he 
said. “ There is a slight slit in it so you will be 
able to see and hear all.” 

“ He will be sure to examine behind the cur- 
tain,” I objected. 

“ You will be hidden in the bedroom when he 
does.” 

“ But he may lock the bedroom door, and so lock 
me in.” 

“ Of course he will, I have made arrangements 
for that. See, the key turns with a click but the 
bolt does not shoot. You must keep the door tight 
with your hand in case he tries the lock; afterwards 
you can get out silently behind the curtain. By the 
way, you might take as full a note as you can of the 
hypnotic dialogue.” 

“ I’ll take it in shorthand, if you like.” 

“ Perfect ; mind, I don’t want to be hypnotised, 
I mean to keep my wits about me if I can manage 
it, but in case I succumb I should dearly like a rec- 
ord, both of what I say and what is said to me.” 

I felt a little ashamed of myself as Beck hurried 
me off to hide in the bedroom as Maltravers’s ring 
came to the door. Somehow, though I could not 
tell how, it seemed a rather low down trick, as if 
we wanted to trap him in some way, but Beck 
laughed at the notion. 

“ What harm can it possibly do him? ” he asked, 


THE GRIP OF THE HYPNOTIST 289 

and as I had no answer ready he got his own way 
as usual. 

He was right in his anticipation. Maltravers 
examined the curtain, and locked the doors both 
of the bedroom and the study. “ One cannot take 
too many precautions, ”.I heard him say to Beck, 
and I noticed a strange excited ring in his voice. 

The seance had begun by the time I ventured to 
open the door of the bedroom and noiselessly creep 
back behind the curtain. 

Beck was seated in a chair almost facing me, 
Maltravers’s side was towards me, and I could only 
see his profile. But in his whole body, in every 
movement, there was a strong suggestion of nerv- 
ous strain. 

I could not quite see what he was doing but he 
had a small mirror in his hand, which sent a patch 
of light dancing on the opposite wall. I heard him 
tell Beck to fix his eyes on the mirror, and I judged 
by the motion of his elbows he was making rapid 
passes with his hands. 

Beck’s face wore a look of quiet resolve, his eyes 
steady, his lips firmly closed, and I wondered if 
Maltravers knew he set himself to resist the incan- 
tation. If so, it only impelled the other to more 
violent efforts. The passes continued more fiercely 
than before, one could feel that there was a duel 
in progress between the two men. I was wound 
up to a pitch of keen excitement, for I wanted Beck 
to win. But after a long minute of silent strain, 
will against will, Beck’s eyelids quivered once or 
twice, and slowly drooped. He opened them 
sharply, but after a pause closed them again. He 


YOUNG BECK 


290 

nodded and caught himself up. Then the tension 
of his lips relaxed, his face lost its fixed expression, 
his arms grew limp, his head dropped back. He 
was unmistakably asleep. 

A long, deep breath, almost it seemed of relief, 
escaped Maltravers. He came a little closer to the 
sleeping man and examined him carefully. At last 
he spoke, very slowly, very clearly, in that wonder- 
ful impressive voice of his. 

“ Can you hear me ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

I would hardly have recognised Beck’s voice, so 
quiet it was, so devoid of all expression. 

“ You are going for a motor drive with Kirwood 
this afternoon, you know that ? ” 

“ I know that.” 

“ Listen now carefully to what you must do.” 
He pronounced each word slowly and distinctly. 
“ When the car is at full speed you must stoop as 
if you dropped something, catch Kirwood by the 
legs, and jerk him out on the road. Do you under- 
stand?” 

“ I understand ! ” It was Beck who spoke but 
a sudden change was in his voice. The two words 
rang out like a pistol shot, and even as he spoke 
he leaped straight at Maltravers. 

There was a short, sharp tussle. Maltravers was 
the bigger man, young and vigorous, but Beck’s 
strength was enormous, and he had the advantage 
of surprise. In a moment he had him down and 
pinned on the floor. 

“ Lend a hand, Charlie,” he shouted to me, “ the 
fellow is dangerous.” 


THE GRIP OF THE HYPNOTIST 291 

Between us we tied him up hand and foot with 
strong cord which was in readiness, and stretched 
him on his back on the carpet, as helpless as a log. 

“ It’s all up, Maltravers,” said Beck, as the other 
strained at his cords. “ You understand the trick, 
Charlie ? ” 

“ I have a notion.” 

“Why, it is quite simple. He hypnotised the 
super, he hypnotised Miss Glenmore to cure her 
headache, he hypnotised your sister. While they 
were in the hypnotic sleep he gave them the mur- 
derous command, which they were constrained to 
obey.” 

“ But why? ” I asked, in utter surprise and hor- 
ror, “ I never injured the man ! ” 

“ You lie, you dog,” Maltravers growled be- 
tween his teeth. It was strange, as he lay there 
helpless, to see the man’s handsome face distorted 
with rage and jealousy. “ You stole her love from 
me. She would have loved me if you had not come 
between, and I am only sorry that I did not stab 
you with my own hand.” 

“ It would have been less mean and cowardly, 
anyway,” retorted Beck, “ but it is too late to think 
of that now. Would you touch the bell, Charlie. 
I’ve a couple of Scotland Yard men waiting to 
carry him off, as I fancied things might turn out 
as they did. He ought to get a dozen years at least 
for incitement to murder.” 

We did not go on our motor drive after all, but 
lunched instead with Gertrude and Margery. 

“ I thought you were to bring Mr. Maltravers,” 
Gertrude said to Margery as we sat down. 


292 


YOUNG BECK 


“ It will be some time before either of you see 
Mr. Maltravers again/’ Beck interposed gravely. 

Something in his voice made both girls turn 
startled eyes on him. He answered the question 
in their eyes. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ the murder epidemic is over — 
we have sterilised the microbe.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


HELD UP 

When Maltravers in due course got his seven 
years for attempted murder, we were all disposed 
to smile at Lascelles and the terror he had inspired, 
but our smile proved somewhat premature. 

The extradition bill was going merrily through 
the committee in spite of the opposition of a few 
sentimentalists who would have protested against 
cruelty to a scorpion or undue severity to a rattle- 
snake. The threatening letters had ceased. Las- 
celles, as I have said, had skipped the country, and, 
if our information was true, was busy at some 
devilment in Spain. We thought we were quit of 
him in London for a time ; as it proved he was only 
drawing back to spring. 

About this time Gerty was away in Kent with 
her friends, the Becks, whom she often visited but 
always when the son was from home. It may be 
as well to mention here, if indeed it is necessary 
to mention, that we were all by this time very 
chummy with the Becks, not excluding the gov- 
ernor, who had completely overcome his first prej- 
udice. If young Beck himself was not altogether 
at ease with the governor that was my fault. 

One evening when Beck and I were smoking 


294 


YOUNG BECK 


together we talked of the governor, with whom he 
had grown to be a prime favourite, and like a fool 
I dropped a hint of what he had said to me when 
he had first met the Becks at Cambridge about 
class distinctions and drawing the line, and all that 
kind of thing. I wanted to show Beck how com- 
pletely he had conquered his prejudices, but it didn’t 
work in the least. Beck froze up at once. For 
half an hour I could hardly get a word out of him, 
and all the time I was cursing myself for a fool. 

It seemed to me he never got on quite so well 
after that, either with the governor or with Ger- 
trude, though goodness knows there was never the 
least trace of snobbery about Gertrude. 

Beck was away fishing in Normandy when Ger- 
trude went down to his people, and the day before 
his return she started for home. She wired us 
from Kent to say she was coming — and never 
arrived. We had a horrible time of it for three 
days searching everywhere, searching in vain. 

On the fourth day, as we sat at breakfast, the 
governor had a letter which changed suspense to 
agony. 

“ My lord,” it ran, “ You must drop that infa- 
mous bill, you really must for the sake of your 
precious daughter. You know your Scriptures, an 
eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. 
The hour the bill passes your daughter dies. If 
the bill is dropped she will be restored unharmed. 
Reply, Victor Lascelles, Hotel Continental, Paris. 
Remember treachery means your daughter’s instant 
death.” 


HELD UP 


295 

There was another sheet in the envelope which 
he did not notice at first; it was in Gerty’s hand- 
writing, very short: 

“ Darling,” it ran, “ save me if you can, but you 
know best, your own Gerty.” 

Not a word more. The words sprawled over the 
paper with wide spaces between, quite unlike Ger- 
ty’s usual compact hand. 

The governor turned as white as the table-cloth. 
He looked like a man who is sick with a sudden 
pain. I thought he was going to faint. 

“ My God, sir,” I cried, “ what is the matter?” 

He tried to speak and couldn’t. I could just hear 
him mutter “ My poor little girl,” all the time star- 
ing at the letter, which had dropped from his trem- 
bling fingers on to the table. I picked it up and 
read it, and was as completely bowled over as the 
governor. The thing was too horrible. The 
thought of Gertrude in the hands of this scoundrel 
simply drove me mad. Blind rage was what I felt. 
I tramped up and down the room longing to lay 
my hands on him. For a moment I could think of 
nothing else. Then I felt I was making a silly 
ass of myself, that there was nothing to be gained 
by foolery of this kind. 

I put my hand on the governor’s shoulder, for 
his head was on the table and he was sobbing like 
a child. 

“ Best telephone for Beck, sir,” I said. “ He’ll 
help if any man can.” 

He leaped up at the hope, “ You are quite right. 


2 9 6 YOUNG BECK 

Charlie,” he said, “ quite right ! ” and made for the 
telephone. 

Within half an hour Beck was with us. He had 
been keenest of us all in the hunt for Gertrude; 
for the last three days he had hardly eaten or slept 
at all. Yet there wasn’t a feather turned on him. 
He was as neat as pins and looked more like a boy 
than ever as he came into the room, only his face 
was very white and set. 

The moment he entered he saw we both were 
in a frenzy of anxiety. But he asked no questions, 
just waited without a word; that was so like 
Beck. 

Without a word the governor handed him Ger- 
ty’s letter. I watched him read it. That queer 
little dimple came into his left cheek; it came, I 
think, from the tightening of his lips, and gave one 
the notion of smiling when it was the last thing 
in his mind. 

“ You will drop the bill, of course, sir,” he said, 
when he had finished the letter. 

There was such a tremble in his voice that he 
could hardly get the words out. I had never heard 
Beck speak like that before, I had never seen him 
look like that before ; he was in a blue funk. 

The governor turned on him sharply. 

“ How can I drop the bill ? What reason can I 
give for it? There are a score of ruffians, in- 
cluding Lascelles, on whom the police are ready 
to pounce the moment the bill passes. I’m dis- 
graced if I drop it.” 

“ That doesn’t matter,” Beck persisted. “ The 
bill must be dropped, we cannot take the risk.” 


HELD UP 


297 

“ And let this scoundrel go free ? ” said the gov- 
ernor. 

“ Time enough to think of that afterwards,” 
said Beck, with something of his old manner, 
“ time enough to hunt him down when she is 
safe.” 

“ What security have we, even if we drop the bill, 
that he will keep his word and let her go? The 
cunning devil may still hold her as a hostage for 
his safety.” 

It was plain that the notion struck Beck for the 
first time and struck him hard, he was usually so 
quick witted. For a moment he was stunned. 

“ That’s true,” he admitted at last reluctantly. 
“ We must try some way to get her out of their 
clutches, but we will have to be cautious; it’s an 
awful risk. Let me see her letter again for a 
moment, sir. You are sure it is in her handwri- 
ting?” 

It was curious that Beck had never seen a scrap 
of Gerty’s writing. 

The governor passed him over the letter. 
“ Hardly her handwriting, but I am pretty sure 
she wrote it, though she writes differently as a 
rule.” 

“ Show me something of hers.” 

The governor took from his pocket his daugh- 
ter’s last letter, and set it before Beck. It was 
beautifully neat and closely written. 

Beck examined them both closely, glancing from 
one to the other. Then he took a powerful magni- 
fying glass from his pocket and minutely scruti- 
nised the scrawl. 


2 98 YOUNG BECK 

“ My God ! ” he exclaimed at last, “ she is a 
wonderful girl ! ” 

The admiration in his voice was so sudden, so 
spontaneous that the governor and myself were 
startled. 

“ It is about the brightest and the coolest thing 
I ever saw done,” Beck went on. 

“ What is it ? ” asked the governor impatiently. 
“ You need not tell me she is clever and coura- 
geous, but I find nothing to show it in the letter.” 

“ She has beaten those scoundrels at their own 
game. Under their very noses she has given us a 
first clue to start with.” 

“ Will you kindly explain? ” asked the governor. 

“ You can see that the letter is written with a 
fine hard pen ? ” 

“ I suppose so now that you call my attention to 
it, I did not notice that before.” 

Beck passed him the magnifying glass. 

“ Look closely at the paper between the last line 
and the signature,” he said, “ and at the space 
above.” 

“ I see a faint white scratch on the paper,” 
the governor said, his eyes riveted on the glass. 
Then with sudden eagerness : “ There are letters ! 
L-O-N-D-O-N, London,” he spelt out slowly, 
“ what does that mean ? ” 

“We are not done yet,” Beck answered, “look 
at the space just above.” 

“ P-H-O,” spelt the governor, “ there is no such 
word as pho.” 

“ Can’t you see the N-E? ” 'asked Beck. “ They 
are there plain enough — ’phone.” 


HELD UP 


299 


“ But again I ask,” the governor cried, with 
growing impatience, “ how did she do it ? Why 
did she do it ? What does it all mean, any- 
way ? ” 

“ She did it with an inkless pen,” said Beck, 
“ under their very eyes. The meaning is as plain 
as daylight. The house they have caged her in is 
not in Paris but London. I half suspected it from 
the first. It accounts for the delay; they sent the 
letter to Paris to be posted.” 

“ And the word ’phone,” I cried eagerly, 
“ means, I suppose, there is a telephone in the 
house.” 

“ You have it,” answered Beck. “ She scraped 
down the two things most likely to help us.” 

“ What must we do?” asked the governor, 
brightening a little. The cheerful confidence in 
Beck’s voice was a tonic against despair. 

“ The first thing,” Beck went on cheerfully, “ is 
to get into personal contact with Lascelles. Bring 
him to see you, throw him off his guard if you can. 
It is a great point in our favour that we know the 
girl is in London, while he fancies we believe her 
to be in Paris. The telephone will come later when 
we have marked down Lascelles. Meanwhile we 
must have time.” 

“ I think I can manage that,” I said. " It will 
be easy by shilly-shallying to keep the bill going 
for another week or more if we want it.” 

“ Now for a letter to Lascelles, for there is no 
time to lose.” 

Under Beck’s direction the following letter was 
written. 


3 00 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Sir, — Your letter just received, coupled with 
the unwarrantable capture of my daughter, places 
me in a terrible dilemma. On one side is my duty 
and reputation; on the other the liberty, at least 
(for I cannot believe you would resort to murder), 
of my only daughter. I trust some other alterna- 
tive may be arranged, with no sacrifice to honour, 
and in this hope I am willing to discuss the matter 
with you if you will kindly call on me at your very 
earliest convenience. Stanton. 

“ P. S. — Your personal safety will be re- 
spected.” 

“ He’ll come,” prophesied Beck, “ if only to con- 
vince you that they do mean murder.” 

Next morning the governor was rung up on the 
telephone from Paris. A pleasant voice with a 
slightly foreign accent announced that Lascelles 
would call next afternoon about six o’clock. 

“ That looks as if he were in Paris, anyhow,” 
the governor said to Beck later in the day. 

“ I think not,” the other replied, “ he worked the 
’phone from London. He has an accomplice in 
Paris.” 

“ Would you like to be present at the inter- 
view ? ” asked the governor. 

“ No, sir, he might recognise me afterwards, for 
those chaps are as wary as foxes, and your daugh- 
ter’s life is at stake. Don’t look so frightened, 
we’ll get her through all right. What you have 
to do is to hold the fellow on and off. He knows 
that there is no hurry, that your daughter’s danger 


HELD UP 


3 01 

is his safety. Give him the notion, if you can, that 
you are sure to win in the long run.” 

There was nothing of the desperado about Las- 
celles when he arrived that evening at our door. 
A handsome, quietly dressed fellow with a gentle 
insinuating manner, soft voice, and sleepy looking, 
half closed eyes, that now and again opened sud- 
denly with the cruel glare of a hawk’s. 

“ Very sorry, my lord, to inconvenience you,” he 
said, as he came into the room, “ but really there 
is no other way out of it. I trust you have made up 
your mind to my terms.” 

For an instant the cruel, hawk-like glint showed 
in Lascelles’s eyes. Then his lids half closed again, 
and his voice was as soft as ever as he said with 
a curious pride in his tone : “ It would be most 
unkind to let you harbour any delusions on this 
score. If the bill passes the House of Commons, 
Lady Gertrude Kirwood will lose her ears, which 
are so pretty and shell-like; if it becomes law she 
will lose her life at the same hour.” 

“ I shall think it over,” said the governor feebly. 
“ It wants time.” 

“ Take your own way and your own time,” said 
the other, with a politeness that was a subtle threat. 

“ But my daughter ? ” asked the governor anx- 
iously. 

“ Your daughter is well and well cared for, 
though I cannot flatter myself that she enjoys her 
visit to Paris. She has suffered no violence and will 
suffer none. A porter in our employment met her at 
the railway station in London. He conveyed her 
and her luggage to a four-wheeler, whose doors 


3 02 


YOUNG BECK 


locked with a spring, whose windows of thick plate 
glass arei air tight, and whose driver is thoroughly 
to be trusted. A soothing gas prevented the young 
lady injuring herself or inconveniencing us by over- 
exertion, screaming or struggling. It was a most 
safe and serviceable driver and cab.” 

There was no mistaking the fiendish threat in the 
smoothly spoken words. The governor’s fingers 
itched to take the sleek, cruel ruffian by the throat 
and squeeze the breath out of him, but he knew 
his daughter’s life must pay the forfeit. 

“ I will think it over,” he said shortly, forcing 
himself to speak. 

“ Think it over very carefully,” advised the 
Frenchman, with malign significance. “ Mean- 
while I have the honour to wish you a very good 
day.” 

Debonair Lascelles, as he silently hailed a random 
taxi at the corner of the street, hardly guessed that 
the foolish-looking boy, who drove him to his flat in 
South Kensington, was Paul Beck — the man in all 
the world whom he had most reason to fear. 

Paul had no trouble in learning all the flat had to 
tell him. It did hold the telephone and it did not 
hold the lady. Further than that he could not go. 
Two days and nights’ incessant shadowing con- 
vinced him that Lascelles neither wrote to nor visited 
his confederates who were in charge of the lady. 

Then more than ever he applauded the quickness 
and courage of Gertrude. Without the clue given 
by the word “ ’phone ” he would have found himself 
helpless. 

As it was he had a long and persuasive interview 


HELD UP 3 o 3 

with the managing director of the Universal Teile- 
phone Company. 

“ It: is a most unusual, a most indefensible pro- 
ceeding', Mr. Beck/’ said that astute gentleman, 

but from what you tell me the emergency justifies 
it. I’ll take the risk.” 

Paul went straight from the telephone office to 
the governor, and found him restlessly pacing the 
floor of his study, backwards and forwards inces- 
santly, likei a wild beast in a cage. He had grown 
years older in those few days under the shadow of 
that torturing anxiety. It was pitiful to see the 
face he turned to Beck with restless agony in his 
eyes. 

“ Well,” he cried, “ what news?” Plainly his 
nerves were in a tangle; his voice, beyond his con- 
trol, ran up to a high treble. “ You have not found 
my girl ? ” 

“ Not yet, sir.” 

“ Then why do you come to me ? ” 

“ For help. I want the use of your telephone, the 
sole use of it for a day or two.” 

“ But why, Paul, why? You must not treat me 
like a child. What are you going to do? What 
do you hope to do? You must tell me everything.” 

“ At present, sir, there is very little to tell. I 
have arranged that Lascelles’s telephone shall be 
put into immediate connection with yours.” 

“Well, well?” asked the governor impatiently. 

“ Every word that he speaks on the telephone 
will be heard in this room ; then, probably in a day 
or so, we will know where Lady Gertrude is hidden. 
But I must have the sole use of the telephone all 


3°4 


YOUNG BECK 


the time. If one word is spoken through it the 
scoundrels have their warning. I have told them 
so in the office. Have I done right, sir ? ” 

“ Admirably, admirably, Beck,” cried the gov- 
ernor gratefully. 

Three hours later the telephone in the study rang 
violently. At once Paul jumped from his seat, 
where he had been waiting in a fever of impatience, 
and clapped the receiver to his ear. 

“ Hallo, hallo, are you there? ” came to him im- 
patiently in the smooth voice of Lascelles, and for 
a second he was on the point of answering un- 
awares. The next second he heard the reply in a 
rougher voice with a strong Cockney accent. 

“ Yes, all right, governor, what is it?” 

“ How is the girl ? ” 

“ Right as the mail, cheerful as a lark, swears she 
will hang the blooming lot of us. I’d like to teach 
her manners ! ” 

“ Fool ! ” Lascelles’s voice was angry and mena- 
cing. “ Treat her well, let her have everything she 
wants. Not a hair of her head must be harmed; all 
our safeity depends on that. Your life will answer 
for the girl.” 

“ Keeip your hair on, governor,” answered the 
rougher voice. “ No one wants to hurt the girl; 
she’ll be right and reiady when she’s wanted. How 
goes the bargain? ” 

“ All goes well, only a little patience is needed. 
Good-byei! ” 

“ Good-bye!” 

Beck heard the bell ring off. He replaced the 
receiver and looked at his watch. It was exactly 


HELD UP 


305 

a quarter to five. The conversation had lasted about 
two minutes. 

“ So far, so good,” he said to himself. “ Now 
I’ve only to find out who was on Lascelles’s ’phone 
at a little before a quarter to five o’clock, and then 
pay a surprise visit on my own account to his 
friends.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


“ FLAT BURGLARY ” 

Laburnham Lodge is a three storied, semi-de- 
tached villa out Hampstead way, built in most pre- 
tentious style. It stands back fifty yards from the 
road in “ its own grounds,” and has a scrubby 
garden in the rear. The companion villa, Beech- 
wood, which shoulders up to it with only a thin 
party wall between is identical in every particular. 
A low wire fence divides the grounds in the front, 
a low wall, the gardens at the back. 

The owners of the villas were genteel folk, who 
took their holidays on the Continent and put their 
town residences on the agents’ books, “To be let 
furnished,” year after year without success. This 
year, to the agent’s great surprise, Laburnham 
Lodge was taken for two months by a gentlemanly 
man with a slight foreign accent, whose references 
were unexceptional, and who paid half the rent in 
advance. 

It never rains but it pours. Three weeks later 
Beechwood was taken by a dissipated-looking 
young gentleman who came into immediate pos- 
session. 

Breakfasting next morning Beck and I had a very 
singular conversation. 


“ FLAT BURGLARY ” 307 

“ You understand what you have to do? ” he said, 
“ the smallest hitch may be fatal.” 

" I think I do, 5 ’ I replied. “ About twelve o’clock 
I’m to fire the big blunderbuss through the right- 
hand top window of the house next door. I hope 
sincerely it won’t burst.” 

“ No, there is no fear, there is only a half charge 
of powder. I don’t want my bullets to get lost or 
injured.” 

“ But why that window ? ” I asked. 

“ Because that’s the room where they are going 
to put me.” 

“ You?” 

“ Precisely. You notice the iron rods across that 
window and the window at the back. They are the 
nurseries when the owners are at home. In the back 
room they keep Lady Gertrude.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ Quite sure.” 

“ Then why not get her out at once if we have to 
tear down the place and strangle the ruffians inside.” 

“ Because I daren’t. Don’t look so haughty, it’s 
for her sake. I dare not risk it. Our first move 
would mean her death. Go on with your lesson.” 

“ But ” I expostulated. 

“ There are no buts. What must you do when 
you have fired the shot ? ” 

“ Get back to the house as quick as I can and lie 
low. I may do what I like, you tell me, next day. 
What the blazes am I to do ? Eat my heart out do- 
ing nothing? Can I go and see the governor? ” 

“ Certainly not,” snapped out Beck, “ these fel- 
lows have their spies everywhere.” 


YOUNG BECK 


3°8 

“ All right, all right, I suppose I'll get through 
the time somehow. Next night, at about the same 
hour, I am to go under the back window and feel 
for a silk thread. To the silk thread I am to tie the 
cord ladder you brought yesterday and to wait in the 
shadow.” 

“ And like a shadow,” added Beck. “ You must 
not be seen or heard as you value your sister’s life.” 

“ Is that all?” 

“ All. Now be off with you. You had better go 
out on your bicycle towards the heath. I have got 
to play the first innings off my own bat.” 

A quarter of an hour later the tenant of Beech- 
wood was knocking and ringing furiously at 
the door of Laburnham Lodge. It was opened 
by a respectable-looking man-servant who seemed 
mildly surprised by the aggressiveness of the 
visitor. 

“ I want to see your master,” the other burst out 
angrily, overflowing with his grievance. “ Do you 
call this a respectable house? I was kept awake all 
last night by a loud knocking against the wall of the 
back room. I won’t stand that sort of thing, I can 
tell you. I’ll see what the police have to say if it 
isn’t stopped.” 

“ U you will kindly step in, sir,” said the servant 
politely, as soon as he could get a word in edgeways, 
“ I will tell the master.” 

He showed the visitor into a room at the back, 
and softly closed the door behind him. 

Five minutes later the door opened again and the 
master came in — a big, square-built, powerful- 
looking man, whose broad face and huge arms, in 


“ FLAT BURGLARY ” 309 

spite of his quiet, well-fitting clothes, suggested a 
prize-fighter. 

The moment he entered the irascible visitor began 
again an angry recital of his woes, the big man 
listening calmly, moving at the same time so as to 
bring his visitor’s back to the door. In the midst of 
the torrent of angry remonstrances the door began 
to open softly, an inch at a time, and the servant 
crept through. 

Suddenly he pounced and gripped the visitor by 
the body and arms from behind. At the same time 
the man in front clapped a hand as big as a small 
ham to his mouth, and silently, almost without' a 
struggle, they bore him to the ground. In a trice 
they had him neatly bound and gagged, and went 
through his pockets with the dexterity and celerity 
of experts. 

From his card-case they discovered that he was a 
wild young nobleman lately come of age and sup- 
posed to be “ celebrating on the Continent.” A gold 
watch was in his fob, there were a score of pounds, 
in gold and notes, in his purse. But what interested 
his investigators most of all was his cheque book. 
The book was half empty but the blocks bore testi- 
mony to the payment of very large sums indeed. 

It was the cheque book of a millionaire. Perhaps 
never in his adventurous life was Beck nearer to 
death than now, when he lay helpless, bound and 
gagged, at the mercy of those men, whose mercy was 
that of a tiger that has gripped his prey. They put 
their heads close together and jabbered as they read 
the entries on the blocks, and went out together 
locking the door behind them. 


3io 


YOUNG BECK 


Lying there on the floor and listening with all his 
ears Beck heard the faint, penetrating tinkle of the 
telephone bell. 

“ It is all right,” he thought contentedly, “ they 
have rung up our friend Lascelles for instruc- 
tions.” 

He had guessed what those instructions would be, 
and his guess was not wide of the mark. 

“ Quite right, so far,” Lascelles said. “ Lucky 
you caught him before any mischief was done, but 
it was a near thing, he might have gone blundering 
to the police. Try and make the girl keep quiet, 
don’t let her knock on the wall, but above all no 
violence to him or her. We have enough on our 
hands at present. From what you tell me of the 
cheque book the man will prove a prize later on. 
Search him thoroughly, keep him safe, but don’t 
hurt him.” 

In less than ten minutes the two men were back 
in the room and carried Beck like a log upstairs. 
The window of the room they brought him to was 
barred, otherwise it was a comfortable, well-fur- 
nished bedroom, lit by electric light. Silently they 
ungagged and unbound him, but when he made 
ready to burst into a torrent of vituperation the big 
man frightened him into silence by a savage growl 
and gesture. 

The victim’s anger instantly changed to sudden 
fear. 

“ I meant no harm,” he whined, “ I will pay you 
handsomely if you will let me go.” 

“ We’ll see about that later on,” the other an- 
swered surlily. “ What you have got to do now 


“ FLAT BURGLARY 


is to keep quiet, and don’t you forget it or there 
will be trouble, sure.” 

The brutes again searched him carefully, from 
the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. 

“ Mind,” the big man cautioned him again, 
“ Mum’s the word.” So they left him shivering in 
a frenzy of fear. 

But his mood changed at the shooting of the bolt 
as they locked the door behind them. 

“ I’m in the governor’s luck ! ” he murmured, 
with a contented chuckle. 

At midnight, a black moonless night, I crept 
quietly from Beech wood, leaving the front door ajar, 
and climbed over the low wire fence into the grounds 
of Laburnham Lodge, carrying a huge, old- 
fashioned blunderbuss with a bell-shaped mouth. 
The room in front on the third story was lit; the 
iron bars showed horizontal black lines across the 
glow. 

Then the blunderbuss roared into the silence of 
the night as I pulled the trigger, and instantly 
scuttled away. A moment later two men from 
Laburnham Lodge rushed out half dressed into the 
grounds, and so on to the road. A policeman came 
bustling up breathless. 

“ That way, constable,” said the big man, “ I saw 
him run that way. Two of them were jawing on 
the road, one of them fired on the other.” 

The constable started in hot pursuit, and the two 
men went swiftly back to Laburnham Lodge. 

“ Near thing,” the smaller man gasped. “ The 
shot was fired into our place, Bill, I heard the 
tinkling of broken glass. What does it mean? ” 


3 12 


YOUNG BECK 


“ We’ll soon see that,” growled the other. 
“ Look, there’s a light in the bloke’s window, I 
wonder what trick he has been up to.” 

At the instant of the report Beck leapt out of bed. 
The shot struck the ceiling and the plaster and 
missiles came down together in a cloud of white 
dust. Quick as lightning Beck picked up what he 
wanted from the rubbish on the carpet. It was a 
very miscellaneous discharge he crammed under 
his pillow. A couple of small files, a little knife 
with a steel handle, a bit of strong wire, a tiny reel 
of silk wrapped in lead. 

He had hardly time to hide his treasures safely 
when his two jailors burst into the room. The cool 
air from the broken window struck in their faces 
as they entered. They found their unhappy pris- 
oner sitting up in bed, his face distorted, quaking 
all over with abject, unmistakable fear. 

“ Mercy,” he whimpered, “ don’t shoot me.” 

“ What has happened ? ” the big man demanded, 
laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“ Some one fired through the window. I thought 
I was shot. Oh, let me go away out of this,” he 
clamoured in a paroxysm of terror. “ I’ll give you 
any money you like if you let me go.” 

“ We’ll talk of that later on, for the present you 
must lie low. Some rowdy fired a shot on the road, 
and it chanced to come our way that’s all. You 
are quite out of the line, you couldn’t be hit from 
the window. See, I’ll shut the shutters. Don’t 
meddle with the electric light any more and you are 
quite safe. Hang it all, man, you needn’t be such a 
miserable coward ! Let go ! ” 


“ FLAT BURGLARY ” 


3i3 


He flung the supplicating wretch roughly from 
him, and left the room with his comrade, locking 
the door behind him. Beck heard them go clatter- 
ing downstairs to the ground floor. Then very gen- 
tly and very persuasively he applied his bit of bent 
wire to the lock of the bedroom door. In a minute 
or two it “ yielded to treatment.” The bolt came 
back with a soft click, and Beck, turning the handle, 
stepped out on the passage. 

The lock of the door opposite allowed itself to be 
just as easily persuaded, but as he pushed the door 
gently open he was conscious from the sound of 
strained breathing that there was some one awake 
in the room. 

“ Gerty,” he whispered in my voice, “ keep very 
quiet.” 

“ Oh,” said a soft voice out of the pitch darkness, 
a voice full of delight and surprise, “ is that you, 
Charlie?” 

“ No, I’m not,” he whispered back, “ I imitated 
his voice lest you might be frightened and cry out. 
I’m Beck and Tve come to get you out of this hole. 
Charlie’s helping. Can you put your clothes on in 
the dark ? I’ll come back in ten minutes, there’s no 
time to lose.” 

“ Thank you very much,” she said, in a voice that 
had no trace of fear, “ I’ll be ready when you 
come.” 

“ She’s a brick,” Beck murmured to himself as he 
skulked back into his own room. Ten minutes later 
when he opened the door again a warm little hand 
took his with a firm pressure, in which there was 
not a touch of tremor. 


314 


YOUNG BECK 


“ This way,” whispered the fearless voice, “ mind, 
the table is almost opposite the door. 

“ Lady Gertrude,” said Beck, when he was safe in 
the room and had closed the door behind him, “ Eve 
got two files of a special make. Between us we must 
cut out one of the bars of your window before 
morning. You see it must be cut in two places, and 
I want you to help. For the present, at least, we 
must work in the dark, as those scoundrels might 
take it into their heads to go outside.” 

“ Give me the file,” she said simply, “ and show 
me where to begin.” 

Side by side they sat at the open window, hour 
after hour, with brief intervals of rest, while the 
sharp edges of the files ate with a hissing sound 
deeper and deeper into the iron. While they rested 
he told her of the governor and myself and our 
plans for her rescue. 

A little after two o’clock Beck called a halt. He 
took her file in his hand and felt the depth of the 
wound she had made in the iron. 

“ Mine is almost clean through,” he whispered ; 
“yours is deep enough; I will be able to wrench it 
out when the time comes. Meanwhile they must 
notice nothing.” 

Finding his way in the dark like a cat he stuffed 
the scars in the iron with soap and soot from the 
chimney. “ Now go back to bed, Lady Gertrude, 
and if all goes well you will meet your brother on 
the other side of this wall to-morrow night.” 

Next night I was out again, and passing my hand 
backwards and forwards across the space of the wall 
under Gerty’s window I could feel a thin thread 


“ FLAT BURGLARY ” 


3i5 


drawn tense by a scrap of dangling lead. I fastened 
the cord ladder to it, as I had been told, and felt it 
mount swiftly in the darkness. Presently I was 
aware of a shadow coming down towards me 
through the darkness of the night. It grew more 
defined as it descended, and stretching out my hands 
I touched the hem of a woman’s dress. The next 
moment Gerty was in my arms. 

“ Take her straight back to Lord Stanton,” Beck 
said, when we had got safely to Beechwood. 

“ And you? ” asked Gertrude; she had recovered 
from the reaction of her escape and looked radiant. 
“ You will come, too? ” 

“ Oh, I fancy I will remain here for a little 
longer.” 

I opened my lips to speak and closed them again. 
“ All right,” I said slowly. “ If you’re ready, Gerty, 
I am.” 

Left to himself Beck plumped down on an easy 
chair, and in two minutes was fast asleep. Two 
hours later he was awakened by the ringing of the 
door bell, and was on his feet in a moment wide 
awake. With a revolver in his hand he crept slowly 
to the door and opened it on the chain. 

“ Who is there ? ” he whispered through the slit. 
“ Oh, you, Charlie. I suppose, I might have ex- 
pected you. Come in.” 

“ You know why I’ve come?” I asked, as I 
stepped into the hall. 

“ Well, I can partly guess, but I don’t want you, 
really. I can manage those two chaps off my own 
bat.” 

“ I knew if I asked, you would have said no, so I 


YOUNG BECK 


316 

came without asking. I owe these blackguards 
something on my own account.” 

“ And Lady Gertrude ? ” 

“ Oh, she is all right with the governor. It would 
have done your heart good to see him when she flung 
herself into his arms. They thought I was gone up 
to my innocent bed and here I am.” 

“ Well, if you must you must, I suppose, only be 
careful and obey orders. How about a revolver? ” 

“ I brought my own, thanks, I thought it might 
come in handy.” 

“ That’s lucky, I had only one. Now we can start 
at once if you are ready. We can sleep as comfort- 
ably at Laburnham Lodge as here.” 

When we had pulled up after us the rope ladder 
Beck said softly : “ Come to my room ; they bring 
me my breakfast first. I’ll bolt the door on the in- 
side to make sure they call us in good time.” 

We slept in our clothes that night. At seven in 
the morning a key grated in the lock, and Beck 
was instantly on his feet. The handle turned and 
pushed and then came an angry knocking at the 
door. 

“ All right, all right,” Beck’s voice responded 
sleepily, “ I’m coming.” 

Standing behind the door, he slipped back the 
bolt, and the two men burst into the room; he 
banged the door behind them. They stopped dumb- 
founded, each looking down the barrel of a re- 
volver. 

“ It’s all up, my boys,” said Beck cheerily, “ you 
may as well give in quietly.” 

The smaller of the two men took his advice. He 


“ FLAT BURGLARY ” 


3i7 

put out his hands meekly, and I clapped the hand- 
cuffs on his wrists. The big fellow hesitated a mo- 
ment then he roared out: “As well be shot as 
hanged ! ” and with his head down drove like a bull 
at his enemy. Beck stepped aside, shifted the pistol 
to his left hand, and with his right met him under 
the left ear and sent him crashing to the ground. 
Like a tiger he pounced on him and there was a 
clean click of steel as the handcuffs met on his 
wrists. 

“ Your bull neck was meant for the rope, my 
friend,” he said as he rose. “ Would you mind 
taking charge of these chaps,” he went on, “ till I 
send the police to take them over ? I have other fish 
to fry. If they try any tricks shoot without mercy. 
The first policeman I meet IT1 send round.” 

“ A man to see me ? ” said Lascelles, “ a mes- 
senger from Lord Stanton? Show him up at once.” 

He was at his breakfast and seemed to enjoy it 
thoroughly. The interruption enhanced his enjoy- 
ment. An evil smile of triumph curled his thin 
lips and shone in his glittering eyes as he gave the 
instruction. He guessed what the message meant; 
Lord Stanton had given in. 

The messenger, a slim young man, came briskly 
into the room, his hand outstretched in friendly 
greeting. Almost without thinking Lascelles gave 
his hand. It was instantly crushed in a grasp of steel 
that sent the blood to the fingernails. Before he 
could resist his left hand was gripped in turn, and 
he was flung heavily back into the chair from which 
he had just risen, a brace of bright steel handcuffs 


YOUNG BECK 


3i8 

tinkled musically on his wrists. The whole thing 
was over in a second. 

The man’s eyes glared like a wild beast caught in 
a trap; For a moment he seemed too stunned to 
speak. 

“ What is the meaning of this ? ” he hissed. 

“ It seems pretty plain,” Beck replied imperturb- 
ably. 

“ Treachery! ” 

“ The reward of treachery and savagery.” 

“ Lord Stanton shall pay for this. His daugh- 
ter ” 

“ Don’t worry yourself about his daughter,” said 
Beck. “ She was safe with her father six hours 
ago.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


MARGERY SAYS “ NO ” 

No one was more broken-hearted about Gertrude 
than Margery, no one more delighted at her escape. 
She was awfully kind to me when I met her once 
during that terrible time, striving hard to comfort 
me in the teeth of her own fears, and afterwards she 
completely let herself go in joy. Gertrude must be 
the pluckiest girl alive, for the awful ordeal she had 
been through did not seem to hurt her in the least. 
The day after she was in wild good spirits, though 
she did not like to talk about what Beck had done 
for her, and I thought she was ungrateful and told 
her so. 

But she bore me no malice, for she contrived that 
I should have a good time with Margery, whom I 
found alone in the drawing-room waiting for Ger- 
trude, who, I suspect, cut her appointment to give 
me a chance. 

I have been in some tight places in my day, but 
my heart never beat faster than when I stood at 
the door, trying to screw up my courage to the 
sticking point. 

I had come in quietly and she had not heard me. 
She was sitting on a couch near the window, her 
face turned from the door. I could just see the 


YOUNG BECK 


3 20 

delicate outline of her nose, chin and eyebrow 
against the light. She was thoughtfully pensive and 
wonderfully lovely. Her figure, in a clinging gown 
of grey-blue velvet, was the perfection of womanly 
beauty. She turned as I closed the door softly, and 
her face brightened as she saw me. She was in- 
finitely desirable. Then in a very tumult of passion, 
without thought, I poured out my love. Twice she 
tried to stop me but I went on to the end. 

There was a torturing silence for a moment or 
two after I had done ; I did not venture to look at 
her face before she spoke. If she had hesitated at 
all there was no sign of it in her voice. 

“ No/’ she said, and there could be no doubt that 
she meant it, “ no, Tm very sorry, Lord Kirwood, 
that I have to refuse but it must be no, now and 
always. I beg you will not speak of this again; I 
know you would not give me pain. For your own 
sake, well, for my sake as well as your own, let this 
be the end. I should be very sorry to lose your 
friendship and your sister’s, but we can never be 
more than friends.” 

I had no answer ready, and indeed she gave me no 
time to answer if I wanted to. With a timid smile 
like a child that pleads for pardon and a whispered 
“ good-bye,” so faint that I hardly caught it, she 
was gone before I could get my wits together. 

It was a nasty jar, I must own; her “ no ” was so 
quiet and so decisive that it left me no hope. 

I don’t think I quite realised how much I loved 
Margery until after I had lost her. She was mixed 
up with my life, with all my thoughts, hopes and 
ambitions. No pleasure was worth having if she 


MARGERY SAYS “ NO ” 


321 

didn’t share it, and the world seemed a very blank 
and desolate place without her. I did not see how 
I would keep on living. I have heard of men who 
have had a bad knock on the head, fallen from a 
horse or something of that sort, and have gone about 
their business in a dazed kind of way, hardly know- 
ing what had happened to them. I felt exactly like 
that. I passed the time somehow, one day with an- 
other, but I had no zest in anything, and always the 
same dull pain of disappointment at my heart. Beck 
thought I was ill and so did the governor and made 
me send for a doctor, but Gertrude guessed the 
truth. 

It was a bit curious that I didn’t want to tell her 
about Margery. I didn’t want to tell any one. I 
had told Gertrude all my other love affairs readily 
enough, and when she laughed at me I didn’t mind 
much. But if she laughed now, I knew, it would cut 
like a knife. 

She made me tell her all the same ; trust a woman 
to get her own way. I was alone in my snuggery, 
smoking and making a pretence of reading, when 
she came in without knocking, closed the door and 
sat down. 

“ What is the matter, Charlie ? ” she asked softly. 
“ I cannot bear to see you like this. Surely you can 
tell me. Is it Margery?” 

Before I knew what I was saying I told her every- 
thing. It was an immense relief once I began, for 
the dear old sister was full of sympathy. She didn’t 
laugh at me once, as she did at the other love affairs. 
When I was done raging and ranting she just patted 
me on the shoulder encouragingly. 


3 22 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Why did she refuse, Charlie ? She didn’t tell 
you that ? Why didn’t you ask her ? ” 

“ What was the use? ” 

“ You’re a donkey,” said this sister of mine 
calmly. “If you don’t know what’s in your way 
how can you get it out of your way? I know she 
is fond of you.” 

“ What!” 

“ Yes, of course, she is.” 

“ Honour bright, Gerty. How can you know 
that ? ” 

“ How can one woman know about another ? 
And Margery is only a woman, I assure you, one of 
ourselves, though, of course, I don’t expect you to 
believe it. If I cared about any one she’d find me 
out quick enough, when you would have no notion of 
it, though I don’t think she’d give me away, and 
I wouldn’t give her away either, to any one but 
you.” 

She blushed and stammered, but I was too ab- 
sorbed in her astounding declaration to think of 
anything else. 

“ But if she is fond of me why did she refuse 
me point blank and tell me there was no hope? ” 

“ That’s what you have to find out. Ask her 
boldly if she doesn’t love you, that’s a thing no 
woman can lie about.” 

I watched my opportunity, and caught Margery 
alone in her own drawing-room after Gertrude 
had skilfully lured her mother out shopping in the 
motor. 

She came towards me smiling and her hands out- 
stretched with the light in her eyes that I loved. 


MARGERY SAYS “ NO ” 323 

“ So we are to be friends after all,” she said. 
“ I’m so glad.” 

“ No,” I answered, as I took her hand and held it, 
“not friends. I can never be content with mere 
friendship.” 

“ There can never be more than friendship be- 
tween us.” 

“ But why, Margery, why? That is what I have 
come here to find out.” 

“ Because there can’t.” 

“ Why can’t there ? Do you love another ? ” 

“ You have no right to ask that, but all the same 
I’ll answer. No.” 

“ Do you love me ? ” 

It was Gertrude’s question and I felt an audacious 
fool as I asked it, but Margery did not laugh as I 
expected nor get angry. She looked at me in the 
queerest kind of way, and the tears began to grow 
in her eyes and the colour in her cheeks until she 
was as red as a rose. Then suddenly she cov- 
ered her face with her hands and burst out cry- 
ing. 

“ You are very, very cruel,” she sobbed. 

I was beside myself with surprise and delight. I 
caught her to me without resistance. 

“ Then it is true,” I cried, “ it is true? Now you 
must marry me.” 

For a moment she lay passive in my arms, and 
my heart sang a song of triumph. I believed she 
was won. Then she put my arms aside, very gently 
but firmly, too. 

“ No, no, no,” she said slowly, “ it is cruel to press 
me; it can never be. I suppose I must tell you the 


3 2 4 


YOUNG BECK 


whole horrible story. I have no father. I am no 
match for the future Earl of Stanton.” 

“Oh, Lord,” I said, “is that it? Go on, what 
else? ” 

“ Why will you torture me ? Is not that 
enough ? ” 

“ No, it’s not enough, it’s nothing at all. Why 
should you and I be punished for your mother’s 
fault?” 

She turned on me indignantly. “ My mother’s 
fault? My mother is the best woman alive. Twenty- 
three years ago my mother ran away with young 
Arnold Cavendish, the only son of Lord Chester. 
But I am as sure as I stand here that they were 
married.” 

“ Then it’s all right,” I said. 

“ It’s not all right. I have no proof, not a scrap. 
Listen to the whole story and you will under- 
stand. They went to Switzerland for the honey- 
moon. He was a great Alpine climber; it was in 
the family. There he came across his uncle, who 
was a greater climber even than himself. One 
morning my father and his uncle, the present Lord 
Chester ” 

“The 'Glacier?’” I interrupted. 

“ Yes, I believe that is what he is called, set out 
on a perilous ascent, taking no guide, while my 
mother remained in a small hotel at the foot of the 
mountain in a fever of anxiety. My father never 
came back from that climb, his body was never dis- 
covered. When the news was brought to my 
mother she fainted; they thought she was dead. 
For a whole day she lay unconscious, and when she 


MARGERY SAYS “ NO ” 


325 

came slowly back to life her memory was gone, 
her mind was an absolute blank. She could not tell 
how she came to Switzerland or who came with her. 
She could tell nothing of her past life. 

“ Old Lord Chester died a few months later. I 
have heard that the shock of his son’s mysterious 
death helped to kill him, but I have no knowledge 
of that for it was before I was born. The present 
Lord Chester, the uncle, came into the whole prop- 
erty. He made an allowance of two hundred a 
year to my mother but he would never listen to the 
suggestion that she was married to his nephew; if 
she was, he knew she would be entitled to twice as 
many thousands. 

“ When I began to make a little money on my 
own account I refused to take his or to allow my 
mother to take it. I had an argument with Lord 
Chester about it. ‘ Madam,’ he said, ‘ I cannot ap- 
preciate your scruples. If I am right, your mother 
is fairly entitled to the annuity.’ * If you are right 
she is entitled to a great deal more.’ ‘ Then why 
refuse to take anything? ’ 

“ But I did refuse and what’s more, last year I 
paid back every farthing with interest. Lord 
Chester took my cheque without another word of 
protest and sent me the receipt. Long ago I used 
to feel certain that some day I would vindicate my 
mother’s character and my own, but latterly I have 
lost all hope.” 

“ Don’t lose all hope. Let me help you. Will 
you have me if I succeed? ” 

“ What is the use of talking of that? ” 

“ But will you ? ” 


YOUNG BECK 


326 

“ When you succeed, ask me again.” 

I left her with my brain in a whirl of delight, and 
on my way home I bought a ruby brooch for Ger- 
trude, who wasn’t in the least surprised with what 
I had to tell her. 

“ Of course I knew the whole story before,” she 
said sedately; “ but I wanted Margery to tell you 
herself that she might know I hadn’t told.” 

For days I puzzled over the problem that every 
day grew more perplexing. I had not the least 
notion how to begin until at Gertrude’s suggestion 
Beck was called into council. 

“ I know the ‘ Glacier ’ pretty well,” I said as I 
concluded the story; “ he was a wonderful climber 
in his day. Always as cool as an icicle, that’s why 
he is called the ‘ Glacier,’ I suspect, but he has the 
reputation of being one of the most honest men in 
England. I confess I believe in him. A man does 
not get a reputation without deserving it.” 

“ He must be very honest or very clever,” agreed 
Beck. 

“ I hate him ! ” cried Gertrude. “ I met him once, 
and I hate him ! ” 

“ But why? ” I asked. 

“ There is no why. Just a woman’s reason, I do 
because I do.” 

“ Well, you see, Charlie,” Beck went on quietly, 
— he always appears to take Gertrude’s side in a dis- 
pute, — “ if young Cavendish was married Lord 
Chester must know about it. He knew, I presume, 
that his nephew was staying at the hotel as a mar- 
ried man. He was out every other day on the 
mountain with him, and it is absurd to think he 


MARGERY SAYS “NO” 327 

did not question him about the girl. If he was mar- 
1 ied Lord Chester knew it, if he was not married 
your quest is over before it begins.” 

“ All right/’ I said impatiently, “ have it your 
own way. But just tell me what I am to do, for I 
must be doing something.” 

“ We have three points to start from,” said Beck. 

First, Lord Chester is probably the only living 
man who knows what we want to know. We may 
get something out of him, though I doubt it. Sec- 
ondly, we may find out where Arnold Cavendish 
was just before he was married; and thirdly, we 
may find something to help us in Switzerland. Now 
which of the three beats do you prefer, Charlie? 
Will you look up Lord Chester, who is in Paris at 
present, or will you hunt up the trail of Arnold 
Cavendish ? ” 

“ Lord Chester,” I said, after a pause. “ I’m not 
keen on the job but I’d never be able to hunt up a 
twenty-five year old trail.” 

“ All right,” Beck answered cheerily, for I think 
that was what he wanted me to say, “ you may start 
at once. I need not tell you to be cautious; what- 
ever else his lordship is, he is keen as a razor.” 

As I said before, I always liked Lord Chester, but 
I never liked him so well as when we came to break- 
fast together at the Continental Hotel, Paris. A 
handsome, middle-aged man, clean shaven and grey 
haired, with strong chin and mouth and clear grey 
eyes, as thin as a lath, and as straight and limber. 

He was so friendly that I felt there was no need 
to beat about the bush. Before we had finished our 
aromatic coffee and crisp flaky rolls, the most de- 


YOUNG BECK 


328 

licious breakfast in the world, we were talking freely 
of Margery Glenmore and her fortunes. It was his 
lordship who began it. He had heard, he said, a 
rumour from London connecting my name and hers 
and desired to be quite frank with me. If there was 
anything in the rumour I had the right to know all 
he could tell me about the girl. Of course I felt im- 
pelled to be equally frank. 

“ I want to marry her,” I said, “ but she won’t 
have me on account of her antecedents.” 

“ That’s bad,” agreed his lordship gravely. He 
did not explain whether it was my proposal or her 
refusal that was bad. “ Miss Glenmore, as she calls 
herself, is a very determined young lady when she 
makes up her mind. It is a sad story. I suppose 
she told you as far as she knows it. By mere acci- 
dent I ran across my nephew. I knew him as a 
reckless climber, while I had some reputation for 
caution and experience, and I actually forced my 
companionship on him. Only by the merest chance 
I heard of the young lady staying with him; he 
never once mentioned her name to me, and dissuaded 
me from coming to his hotel. Naturally I refrained 
from intruding on his confidence but I had my sus- 
picions, of course. 

“ It was snowing hard on the day the poor chap 
came to his death. A little after midday we were 
crawling cautiously down a glacier, he in front. If 
he had not refused to be roped we would have both 
been smashed, or neither — neither, I fancy. We 
had just come to the steepest part of the glacier 
where I could just see him dimly a few yards in 
front of me in the snow. Suddenly he began to 


MARGERY SAYS “NO 


329 

glide away into the white obscurity, his figure grew 
fainter and fainter, a vague shadow through the 
snow, then there was an awful yell and he dis- 
appeared. With the help of my ice-axe I crept to 
the edge of the crevasse. It was hundreds of feet 
deep and very narrow. I went round one end and 
returned safely to the foot of the mountain. Next 
morning I came back with two guides, and ropes, but 
they shirked going down the crevasse, and they 
would not let me go down. It was snowing all 
night, there was not the slightest chance, they said, 
of recovering the body. 

“ The rest you probably know : the body was 
never found; the poor lady, very beautiful she was, 
lost her memory by the shock; the daughter, when 
she came to the use of reason, or unreason, seemed 
to take a violent prejudice against myself because 
I could not prove a marriage. Perhaps it was only 
natural, for there was a big bit of money and a lot 
of land which all came to me. The mother would 
be entitled to her share if the marriage could be 
proved, and I, of course, would be the loser. Yet 
I swear to you, Kirwood, I would have proved it if 
I could.” 

Let me say at once that I believed him. There 
was that in his voice and manner that compelled 
belief. At his request I stayed on a few days in 
Paris, because he thought he would be able to get 
across with me to Switzerland, and show me the 
very scene of the tragedy. 

I never met or desired to meet a pleasanter com- 
panion. He knew Paris as the bee knows the hive. 
It was blazing hot that year in the great, clean 


330 


YOUNG BECK 


green and white city, blue sky, dazzling sunshine, 
and still air that panted with heat. But Lord Ches- 
ter, in light grey flannel suit and wide Panama hat, 
was cool as a glacier. Perhaps that was how he 
earned his nickname, for no one ever saw him 
heated in body or temper. 

He was much interested in Beck and his mission 
to Devonshire. He knew Beck’s father, he said, 
one of the keenest men that ever traced a crime 
and caught a criminal; like a bloodhound, rather 
by instinct than by intellect. I told him some of 
the exploits of young Beck, and read scraps of the 
letters which I received from Devonshire where 
he was already hard at work. 

Two days before the date that Chester and I had 
arranged to start for Switzerland, I had the sharp- 
est shock of my life. A wire came from Beck from 
London : “ Return at once. Father dangerously 
ill.” 

I had just time to catch the train and boat. I 
wired before I started “ What news?” but re- 
ceived no reply. When I came rushing in a motor 
from London it was with a pang of delight I saw 
the governor standing at the door waiting for me, 
looking as strong and as hearty as ever he looked 
in his life. The sudden reaction from the long 
strain left me quite weak. I was just able to blun- 
der out of the motor car, rush up the steps and grip 
him by both hands. In the hall I saw Gertrude and 
Beck together. 

“ Beck was right, as usual,” said the governor. 
“ He was certain that the same trick would be 
played on you as was played on him, and told us 


MARGERY SAYS “ NO ” 331 

to expect you as quick as train, boat, and motor 
could carry you home from Paris.” 

It appeared that Beck had received a twin tele- 
gram to mine, and had come rushing back at the 
same speed from Devonshire. We talked the matter 
over at lunch, turning it in every direction, and 
Beck and Gertrude were certain that the “ Glacier ” 
had played the trick. I refused to believe it, and 
tried to find some other solution. 

Suddenly Gertrude jumped to her feet with a 
cry of alarm. 

“ Oh, while we are chattering here something 
may have happened to Margery. Pm sure that 
awful man sent her a wire too.” 

With a sudden shrinking of heart I noticed the 
look on Beck’s face. 

“ Do you think ” I began. 

“ Your sister is right,” he said gravely, “ it is 
just the thing he would do. I was an ass not to 
suspect it before. We must start at once.” 

A quarter of an hour later the motor was rush- 
ing at double regulation speed to London. Straight 
to the theatre we drove, and were lucky enough to 
find the manager in his office. His good-humoured 
face wore a worried look which brightened as he 
recognised us as friends of his leading lady. 

“ Welcome,” he said, swinging round on his 
revolving chair from a table littered with papers 
and play bills, at which he was seated. “ What 
news of Miss Glenmore?” 

My heart went down to my boots. 

“ That’s what we have come to find out,” I fal- 
tered. 


332 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Then that’s what I can’t tell you,” he retorted, 
more worried than before. “ All I know is that 
she went off yesterday just before the rehearsal, 
leaving a message with her maid that she couldn’t 
play that night. I had to put on her understudy 
at the last moment and she made a mess of the 
part. I would not mind if it were anybody else, 
but Miss Glenmore never before missed a rehearsal 
or a performance. I could get nothing out of the 
maid, so perhaps you’ll try your luck. She is in 
Miss Glenmore’s dressing-room at the present mo- 
ment.” 

Very little was to be found out of the maid, a 
slim, quiet girl, with straw-coloured hair and faint 
blue eyes, who was plainly devoted to her mistress 
and very anxious about her. 

Margery had come early for a dress rehearsal of 
her part, a gay young widow in a society comedy. 
She had just put on her gorgeous stage dress when 
the telephone bell rang loudly and she ran to it. 

The maid thought from the tone of her mistress’s 
voice that she was frightened. “ Yes, yes,” she 
said at the end, “ I’ll start at once.” 

She waited only to get her purse, to throw her 
motor coat over her costume, and was off. “ Tell 
Mr. Mandeville,” she said to the maid as she rushed 
out, “ that I’m called away on urgent business, and 
that I won’t be back for the rehearsal or the per- 
formance to-night. I shall wire to him.” 

That was the last that was seen of her ; she never 
wired. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE “ GLACIER ” 

Beck glanced round the room with keen eyes 
that took in everything. The receiver of the tele- 
phone had not been replaced, it lay where she had 
thrown it on the table. 

“ I am almost certain she has darted off to 
Paris/’ he said. 

“ To Paris! But why to Paris?” 

“ She knew you were there ? ” 

“ Of course.” 

“ Then she is gone in obedience to a message 
from you.” 

I don’t often get riled with Beck, but I was then. 

“ This is not the time for jesting,” I said. 

“I’m not jesting, old chap; perhaps I ought to 
have put it plainer, for it was quite plain in my own 
mind. Our friend Chester, who sent those two 
pretty wires, ’phoned to her, imitated your voice 
and called Miss Glenmore away to Paris. It was 
something like that your sister was afraid of.” 

“ Are you quite sure ? ” 

“ I will make quite sure.” 

He took up the telephone receiver, and in a 
moment or two reached Mrs. Glenmore. 

“Are you there?” I heard. “Yes, Mrs. Glen- 
more, it is I, Beck. Is Miss Glenmore at home ? ” 


334 


YOUNG BECK 


There was a long pau^e, a full minute, and Beck’s 
soothing voice was heard again. 

“ All right, there is nothing to be the least un- 
easy about. Yes, Lord Kirwood is here; we think 
we know why she has gone. We are starting for 
Paris. Yes, certainly, we will wire you at once 
when we see her. Good-bye.” And he rang 
off. 

“ Miss Glenmore,” he explained to me, “ wired 
her mother that she was called away to Paris; she 
hoped to be back to-morrow — that’s to-day — she 
would stay at the Continental Hotel — that’s your 
hotel — and would write. She has not written 
and I have a notion she will not come back for some 
time unless we go for her.” 

“ Why, Paul, you don’t think ” 

“ I don’t think anything, man, I don’t know what 
to think. Don’t let yourself get into that state or 
you will be no more use than a hysterical girl, and 
we will want all our wits about us to deal with 
Lord Chester. Will you come to Paris?” 

“ Of course.” 

“ Then let us have a bit of dinner ; we have an 
hour for it. Your sister had our travelling bags 
put into the motor, for she had an idea we would 
want to travel somewhere. There is nothing to 
do for an hour. 

Beck ate a hearty dinner and forced me to eat a 
little though I found it hard to touch a morsel, but 
a glass or two of champagne put life into me. I 
kept on looking at my watch like a fussy woman, 
and we were nearly half an hour too soon for our 
train. 


THE “ GLACIER 


335 

In the train Beck told me he had been getting 
on famously in Devonshire when the wire called 
him away. He found the village where Margery’s 
father had been on a fishing excursion just before 
his runaway marriage, and he had found the 
woman with whom he lodged. “ Lord Chester must 
somehow have discovered I was on hot scent when 
he called me off.” 

“ Sure it was Lord Chester? ” 

“ Quite sure. The whole plan is his. He wanted 
to get me out of Devon, and I fear the scent won’t 
be so hot when I get back there again, and he 
wanted to get you out of Paris before Miss Glen- 
more arrived. Don’t get into the fidgets again, 
she will come out all right, never you fear.” 

From the station in Paris we rattled and banged 
in a vile trap — we could not get a taxi — over 
huge rough cobblestones, through the worst paved 
streets in the world, to the Continental Hotel. 

Our brief interview with the hall porter was emi- 
nently unsatisfactory. “ But yes,” he said. “ A 
lady and gentleman had called yesterday to enquire 
for Lord Kirwood. I told them that Lord Kir- 
wood had gone, and they drove away. I know 
nothing more.” 

A question or two identified the lady as Margery 
Glenmore. Her companion was a handsome, well- 
dressed man of about thirty or thirty-five, with 
dark moustache. “ Most certainly a Frenchman.” 

“ We must try back ! ” cried Beck. 

This time we were lucky enough to catch a taxi, 
and were back in the station in less than half the 
time it took us to come from it. 


336 YOUNG BECK 

Beck began at once to interview the numerous 
porters. 

“ Some of them,” he said, “ must have noticed 
that gorgeous dress. We will go right through 
them, — it is a tough job but it is the only way I 
see.” 

The porters were quite interested and excited. 
A liberal distribution of francs had very little to 
do with their eagerness. There was a lady in the 
case, that was sufficient to enthuse them. With 
much gesticulation and loud questions they shouted 
across the platform and gathered in an eager crowd 
around us. They reminded me of a swaying swarm 
of hounds at the cover side. At last one of them 
gave tongue. But yes, he cried, he remembered 
quite well. Madam was ravishing in blue, she was 
a vision. She had no luggage but he carried a bag 
for monsieur to the voiture. Monsieur was French 
beyond doubt, but madam was most charming 
English. 

Could he find the driver for us? 

Most certainly. He came with us quite confi- 
dently to review the long row of vehicles, but his 
confidence vanished when put to the test. Twice 
we passed up and down the line and twice he failed 
to find his man. 

Then of a sudden he plucked off his cap with 
an angry gesture and flung it on the ground. 

“ I am a fool,” he cried, “ the dog ! ” 

Without a word more the porter ran back the 
way he had come along the line of carriages and 
in a couple of minutes returned trotting beside a 
voiture, on which sat a dandified young driver with 


THE “ GLACIER ” 


337 

a glazed hat as shiny as a black mirror, and a black 
curly water spaniel planted comfortably on the seat 
by his side. 

It was the dog,” the porter explained. “ I 
remembered the dog. Madam admired the dog 
and spoke to it as she got in. Jean here remembers 
madam. It goes well. Much thanks, monsieur,” 
as Beck gave him a louis, and turned to the driver, 
who stared with wide open eyes at this magnificent 
pour boire. 

“ Yes,” he declared, he remembered very well 
madam in the blue dress, and monsieur her hus- 
band. He drove them first to the Continental and 
afterwards to the Hotel Sans Souci, a small hotel 
on the quays. Monsieur paid him when he got out, 
but madam gave him a five franc piece for the dog, 
behold it all. 

We had kept our taxi this time for fear of acci- 
dents, and in a minute more we were off to the 
Hotel Sans Souci, the driver and porter gesticula- 
ting wildly and crying good fortune after us as we 
started. 

A stout overdressed man, with big nose and 
thick lips and an alert air, received us at the door 
of the Hotel Sans Souci. 

“ Yes,” he said insolently, “ I have good reason 
to remember madam whom you describe. Madam 
was a thief of the most infamous.” 

But for Beck I verily believe I would have stran- 
gled the scoundrel then and there. 

“ Easy does it, Charlie,” he remonstrated, “ we 
have something else to do than thrash insolent 
hotel proprietors,” 


YOUNG BECK 


338 

My looks must have frightened the fellow for 
he answered Beck’s questions more civilly after 
that. 

“ But what do I know,” he began. “ Monsieur 
and madam came to the hotel, monsieur wrote the 
names, M. and Mme. Vandelure, in the book. No, 
madam did not see what he wrote. Monsieur had 
a travelling bag, madam had no luggage, none at. 
all. She went out and bought things when she 
came to the hotel, but all quite new. They slept 
that night in different rooms; I thought it droll, 
different rooms.” 

Again my fingers itched to throttle the scoundrel, 
but Beck’s restraining hand was on my arm. 

“ In the morning behold a lady in the hotel had 
been robbed. A search was made. Monsieur had 
gone early in the morning, leaving his bag, and 
in his bag was found a bracelet, one of the things 
robbed. 

“ Madam’s door was locked but she opened it 
quickly, else they would have broken it in. Of 
herself or her husband she could give no account ; 
she called herself first one name then another, she 
was Miss Brown from London, at last. Of course 
she swore she was innocent; they all swear that; 
in the end the affair was for the police and the 
magistrates, not for him.” 

While the scoundrel of a landlord, now thor- 
oughly frightened, was stammering out his story 
I got a clear notion at last of the diabolical plot 
in which poor Margery was involved. Alone in 
Paris, without a friend to turn to, charged with 
robbery under circumstances that seemed conclu- 


THE “ GLACIER ” 


339 

sive of her guilt, no wonder the frightened girl 
was confused, no wonder she gave a wrong name. 
If we had not turned up in the nick of time she 
would have disappeared into a French prison, leav- 
ing not a trace behind. 

By this time the unfortunate proprietor, who, 
after all, was not so much to blame, began to realise 
that some horrible mistake had been made. He 
grew every moment more polite and gave us all the 
information in his power. 

Beck, like the real decent fellow that he is, left 
the rescue of Margery in my hands. I knew the 
English Ambassador in Paris,, and from him I had 
a letter to the Chief of the Police, to whom I told 
the whole story in confidence, omitting only the 
name of Lord Chester. Then, with an order for 
her immediate release in my pocket, I darted off to 
the prison where my unfortunate girl was confined. 

I found her in tears, frightened to death by the 
horror through which she had passed. Having 
been pestered for two long hours by a magistrate 
to make her confess her guilt, of which he assumed 
there could be no possible doubt, she had been sent 
back to her cell with an assurance of conviction. 

The Margery that I found in that narrow cell 
was not in the least like the Margery I had learned 
to love : the woman of genius, mistress of herself 
and of all passion, who held crowds breathless and 
enthralled. Yet I felt I never loved that stately, 
queenly woman half as well as the new Margery, 
the weeping, pitiful girl who clung to me so appeal- 
ingly for protection. 

Beck effaced himself while we had a delightful 


340 


YOUNG BECK 


tete-a-tete lunch at the Continental. Between sob- 
bing and laughing, always on the verge of both 
but never quite tumbling over, she told me the 
whole story. 

Really there was very little to tell that Beck had 
not already anticipated, or that I did not already 
know. She could have sworn the voice on the 
telephone was mine. She thought she knew my 
voice well, she said, with a quick, shy look quite 
new from her, which set my heart thumping. The 
voice begged her to start at once for Paris and she 
obeyed, that was all. At Calais she was met by a 
distinguished-looking Frenchman, who gave his 
name as Gustave Durand, and told her he had been 
deputed by me to look after her. He had been 
most attentive and she had never for a moment 
dreamed of doubting him. At the Continental he 
told her they had left a message that they were to 
go to the Sans Souci to wait for me. 

When she came to tell of the morning and all 
those excited French people clamouring round her 
and shouting “ thief ! ” at her, the memory of all 
she suffered, the unutterable fear and shame of it, 
proved too much for her. At last she went over 
the verge, on which she had balanced so long, and 
burst into tears, and I had to coax and pet her back 
into good humour. Then I felt for the first time 
that there might after all be some truth in that 
astounding statement of Gertrude’s that she loved 
me. 

It was a delightful journey back to London. 
Beck proved an admirable chaperon, he saw to 
everything, and was never in the way, never out 


THE “ GLACIER 


of it. On board the boat, when Margery went to 
lie down for a little, I had a chance to thank him. 

“ I’ll help you with your girl,” I said, “ if ever 
you want help.” 

He looked at me queerly for a moment before 
he answered : “ All right. Mind, I’ll hold you to 
that.” 

We had hardly arrived in London when Beck 
made a dash for Devonshire, but he was back in 
town in a few days. 

“ As I thought,” he said, the same evening in 
the small smoking-room, where Gertrude had forced 
herself against my protest ; “as I said. The old 
landlady was spirited away, she has vanished into 
space. I found out, however, that Mrs. Glenmore’s 
maiden name was Spring, Nellie Spring, the doc- 
tor’s only daughter, a wild, frolicsome girl — could 
you ever imagine it now ? — who walked and fished 
with the young lordling and finally ran away with 
him. I could find no record or even rumour of the 
marriage in the locality, and I think it is useless 
to try further. My next move is to Switzerland 
where the accident occurred.” 

“Accident?” interrupted Gertrude. 

“Well, we will call it so for the present, we 
may have always to call it so. I have been read- 
ing a lot about glaciers, their tricks and ways, and 
I’ve got a notion in my head that may come to some- 
thing.” 

“ I can help you there,” I interposed. “ I have 
minute directions and a map of the place which 
Lord Chester gave me when he never dreamed we 
could suspect him.” 


342 


YOUNG BECK 


“ Indeed,” said Beck dryly. “ Since you told me 
his lordship’s story I have looked up the account 
of the accident in an old file of the Times at the 
British Museum. It mentions quite a different 
locality.” 

“ Charlie is a fool,” was Gertrude’s disrespect- 
ful comment. “ I believe he still trusts that cold- 
blooded murderer. Margery ought to marry you 
instead of him if you get to the bottom of the 
mystery.” 

“And if she won’t?” asked Beck lightly. 

“ Perhaps some one else will.” 

“ Is that a promise? ” 

“ No, only a prophecy.” 

“ When you two are done talking nonsense,” I 
interrupted, “ Beck might tell us when he intends 
to start.” 

“ Are you quite sure it is nonsense ? ” asked 
Beck. 

“ Of course it is,” said Gertrude. “ I apologise 
for calling you a fool just now, Charlie; you are as 
wise as an owl in daylight.” 

Beck was . nearly a week in Switzerland before 
we had a line from him. Then there came a long 
letter which I found a bit puzzling, but Gertrude, 
to whom I read it, and who indeed finally captured 
it, insisted that it was as clear as daylight. 

“ My dear Charlie,” he wrote, “ I think I have 
found something at last. This is a glorious place 
close up to the snow line with Alps all round hold- 
ing up the sky, and deep grassy hollows green as 
emerald between. But I have had no time to look 


THE “ GLACIER ” 


343 

at the Alps or the valleys, I have been grubbing 
among the glaciers. The great big one into whose 
fathomless crevasse poor Arnold Cavendish fell, 
pokes its snout into the valley a couple of miles 
from the hotel. Now I want you to understand 
that glaciers are not stationary like rocks or moun- 
tains, they are more like rivers, and a valley is 
their ocean. Fed by the snow on the hill-top they 
come sliding down, year after year, ever so slowly, 
and their noses, when they poke them into the val- 
ley, are melted off by the summer sun, and so on 
and so on. Do you see a chance there ? ” 

I turned a perplexed face to Gertrude, who for 
a moment looked as bewildered as myself, then her 
face lighted up and she said “ Oh ! ” twice, but 
could not be induced to say a word more. 

“ I want you,” the letter went on, “ to bring out 
Miss Glenmore and her mother as soon as ever 
you can, and you shall see what you shall see. 
Could you induce your sister to come too? You 
may tell here there is a good chance of her prophecy 
being fulfilled.” 

“ What was your prophecy, Gerty ? What does 
he mean by that? ” 

“ Nothing ! ” exclaimed Gerty, blushing furi- 
ously. “ Charlie, I think your friend Mr. Beck 
hasn’t an ounce of brains.” 

“ Brains ? ” I exclaimed indignantly, “ I think 
Beck is the cleverest chap I ever met.” 

“ So do I,” she retorted, with true feminine in- 


344 


YOUNG BECK 


consistency, and kissed me. “ Of course I’ll go, 
Charlie, if you really want me to.” 

I was thrown a good bit with Mrs. Glenmore on 
the way out while the girls were chattering to- 
gether, laughing and blushing and keeping me out 
of their talk. Poor Mrs. Glenmore looked older 
than her years. Her hair was pure white, though 
her complexion was fresh as a girl’s. Placid, and 
even cheerful, she made no parade of sorrow, but 
her smile was sadder than another’s tears. In her 
beautiful eyes there was a wistful, hopeless look 
as if she were trying in vain to peer behind the veil 
that hid her past life and love from her memory. 

Beck quartered our party in a delightful little 
hotel, on whose peaked roofs, gables and balconies 
the high hills frowned sombrely. Presently we 
found that he had desecrated the calm of the scene 
by the importation of an army of workmen, whose 
picks rang incessantly on the great glacier where 
it jutted into the valley. 

Just at the peak the surface of the glacier was 
wholly different from the blue translucence that 
flashed back the rays of the sun farther up the 
mountain. For a depth of a few inches it was 
covered by a coating of congealed snow with a 
myriad minute air bubbles, that rendered it white 
and opaque as muffed glass. Beck’s workmen were 
employed in clearing off this white coating for a 
stretch of about a hundred yards or so from the 
blue transparent surface below. 

“ Lifting the veil,” he called it, but he refused to 
allow any of the party to inspect the operation. So 
we skated on a high lying lake, and tobogganed on 


THE “ GLACIER ” 


345 


a neighbouring slope, and even condescended to 
sliding and snowballing, and all enjoyed ourselves 
amazingly, all except Mrs. Glenmore, who showed 
a strange puzzled restlessness ever since she had 
got into the magic circle of the hills. 

One morning while the glacier and snow-col- 
oured hills still shone like leagues of jewels, topaz, 
ruby, diamond, in the glowing dawn, Beck came 
to my room. He looked excited and worried as I 
had seldom seen him before. 

“What’s happened?” I asked, jumping out of 
my bed. “ You’re up early.” 

“ I’ve not slept at all,” he answered. “ All last 
night my men were at work by moonlight. Early 
this morning I found what I was looking for, and 
now I’m horribly puzzled to know what to do 
about it.” 

“ Can I help at all?” 

“No, I will take my own risks. I only want you 
after breakfast to bring the ladies, especially Mrs. 
Glenmore, to where we have been working. God 
grant all may go well ! ” 

We ate little breakfast that morning, any of us, 
we were burning with feverish curiosity about 
Beck’s discovery. I don’t think any one of us 
guessed what it really was. 

We found him before us on the first slope of the 
glacier, where the white ice had been stripped from 
the long spur that jutted into the valley, till it 
gleamed dark blue clear as glass in the sunshine. 
At one spot, about half way up the clear space of 
ice, the workmen were clustered, Beck amongst 
them, and hid the surface from our view. All four 


YOUNG BECK 


346 1 

we climbed up to the group, Mrs. Glenmore first, 
an agony of strained expectancy in her eyes. Then 
at a word from Beck the living curtain fell away 
and we saw. 

Through the clear blue crystal we saw the figure 
of a young man, lying prone on his back, with his 
arms flung out as if in peaceful sleep. Marvel- 
lously life-like he seemed under the transparent 
covering searched by the strong light of the morn- 
ing sun. The dark curls clung crisply round the 
white forehead, the dark eyes, wide open, looked 
out at us. I have heard that a dying man’s last 
agony is frozen on the face of the corpse. It was 
not so here. If this man had met his awful death 
with fear or pain the passion had passed with his 
dying, his young face was tranquil as a child’s. 
But through the bosom of his rough tweed jacket 
half the blade of a long knife stuck out, all red with 
rust, and on the cloth round the knife there was a 
wide blotch of more vivid red. 

At the first glance my eyes turned instinctively 
from the face of the dead husband to the living 
wife. No words can tell what I saw there. All her 
life was in her eyes that were fixed on his face. 
After long years he had come back to her of a 
sudden as she had last seen him. A quarter of a 
century had passed making no change. He was the 
young lover-husband who had lain by her side the 
night before the tragedy; she, the girl bride who 
had watched for his waking with patient love. For 
one happy moment time had rolled back and death 
had restored its victim, and young life and love 
with all its joys were opened to her again. 


THE “ GLACIER ” 


347 


Then, with a shrill cry, she threw up her arms 
and would have fallen to the ground, but Beck’s 
watchful eyes were on her, and Beck’s strong arms 
caught her as she fell. 

The event justified his daring. The daughter, 
who was alone with the mother when she recov- 
ered from the swoon late in the day, came to us 
with the good news that her memory was restored. 
It had come back with a clearness that was almost 
miraculous, she was like one waking from a dream. 
Every incident of her life from her childhood to 
her girlhood, every detail of their wooing and mar- 
riage, were before her as if they had happened 
yesterday. 

They had been quietly married in London. Her 
husband, she declared, always carried the certifi- 
cate of the marriage in his pocket-book, and so it 
proved. 

Poor lady, when the first burst of passionate 
grief was over, she* was happier than ever her 
daughter had seen her before. I hardly knew her 
for the same when I saw her again. Her eyes were 
still sad but they had lost that pitiful look of wistful 
helplessness, she had come back into the real world 
of memory, hope, grief, and joy. 

Meanwhile the work of the evacuation of the 
glacier went on briskly. The body was recovered 
and buried quietly in the little Catholic graveyard 
of the district. But quiet as the burial was, some- 
thing of the strange incident must have leaked out 
into the press. A few days later, we read in the 
Paris edition of the New York Herald the follow- 
ing paragraph : — - 


348 


YOUNG BECK 

“ TERRIBLE MOTOR ACCIDENT 


“ We regret to announce that Lord Chester, who 
had been some months resident in Paris, yesterday 
met his death in a terrible motor accident. His 
lordship, who was a very expert driver, went out 
alone. He seems to have lost control of his ma- 
chine in some unaccountable fashion. While at 
full speed it struck against a telegraph post. The 
motor was wrecked, and the unfortunate nobleman 
instantly killed.” 

There was a hush while I read the bald para- 
graph at breakfast, for we all knew why Lord 
Chester had died. 

“ God pardon his soul,” murmured the woman 
whom he had most wronged, and my own sweet 
Margery softly whispered “ Amen.” 

It was later in the day, in the glow of the soft 
sunset that filled the earth with radiance and rap- 
ture of heaven, that she shyly confessed her love 
and promised to be mine. 

The day before our return, while I was sitting 
near the window with Gertrude absorbed in the 
glorious view that seemed somehow an integral part 
of my life never to be forgotten, Beck came slowly 
into the room. Gertrude started to her feet and 
would have gone, but he stopped her. 

“ Please don’t go,” he said, and she stayed. 
Again I wondered why Gertrude did not like Beck, 
why she was so anxious to get out when he came in. 

“ Charlie,” he said, “ do you remember you 
promised to help me whenever I was in love, if I 
needed help ? ” 


THE “ GLACIER ” 


349 


“ I remember,” I said, wondering why Gertrude 
was blushing. “ How can I help you ? Do I know 
the girl ? ” 

“ Yes,” he answered, “ you do know the girl, 
but that’s not it, exactly, strange to say, for the girl 
has consented conditionally.” 

“ Who is she, anyway ? ” 

“ Charlie, you are a fool,” said Gertrude, blush- 
ing more than ever. 

Then with a shock of surprise the truth came 
to me. 

“ Oh!” I cried. “ Is that it? ” 

Gertrude nodded. 

“ Yes,” said Beck, “ that’s it. I want you to help 
me with Lord Stanton. I fear he may be disap- 
pointed, angry even.” 

“ So far as that is concerned,” I said, “ I often 
talked about Gertrude’s marriage with the gov- 
ernor. He thought you were in love with her.” 

“ And you?” asked Gerty sharply. 

“ Oh, I told him it was pure nonsense.” 

“ Wise you!” 

“ But what did Lord Stanton say ? ” asked Paul. 

“ He said he hoped sincerely Gertrude would 
marry young Beck, that there was no man in the 
world to whom he would sooner give her, and I 
say the same, old chap.” 


THE END. 








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